love is love

I thought about titling this post “love stinks”.

Yep. I set this as my ringtone after Christmas until my birthday in March.

And it’s because of my love of the ’80s that Adam Sandler’s The Wedding Singer tops it.

But maybe what I really mean to say is that love hurts.  In which case… back to the ’70s.

I have some reservations with this video. I used to ❤ ❤ ❤ That ’70s Show  and not just because it used the apostrophe correctly in its abbreviation of decades. It got it right.

But then…

Stephen Hyde, Danny Masterson, I believe her and her and her because #MeToo.

And, oh boy, citing the Church of Scientology ain’t gonna help you with gals like me.

Because I have been there. Close enough. Don’t believe me? Just ask Daniel Tosh.

But you know what they say: even though love hurts, it’s better than the alternative.

Take, for example, my father.  He loves my mom, but his first love had four legs.

I think I have said previously that my dad is an Arizona cowboy.  And while he will downplay it, saying there are much better cowboys out there who have worked harder under worse conditions, this protestation is  actually proof that my dad is a bonafide and true cowboy. Like something from a movie, or a novel. He is a character.

And boy oh boy how he adores John Wayne.

Me, I am Katherine Hepburn (in the back) when I have to deal with his ego.

rooster cogburn

In his 80s, he’s finally retired from a career (and identity) that he has had since 1968.  He hasn’t been himself lately. He’s slower and sadder.

And, then, on Tuesday, he had to put a bullet into the brain of his last remaining horse.

It makes me think of one of his favorite films, The Man From Snowy River II.

Or anything with a horse, really.  The most emotional part is always when the stoic cowboy has to man up and put down his injured steed.

And this horse was in arthritic pain and had developed colic.  It was a mercy to kill him.

Hey, don’t judge me all you animal-rights types. I used to be vegetarian. Hellfire, I used to be vegan. But then I realized that I was just swapping one sort of guilt (liberal) for another (conservative).

I agree with a veterinarian who was a boss and a friend when I say that, sometimes, the most human thing we can do is to help the animals we love out of pain, out of this world.

Because, horses (and most of the animals on this planet) are not our mental equals.

Not yet.  And, until then, we owe them a staggering amount of care and respect.

This were I verge from the vegans of my past, and PETA.  We, as humans, have our wits about us, when we are at our best (not currently in the Orange State of Bat-Shit Crazy America, but we have hope) and therefore we have the burden of being stewards of animals. Like parents to a child who one day will no longer need our supervision.

So I made sure I hugged him until he hugged me back and told him sorry for his loss.

I think we had a moment of bonding. This is something my father and I rarely have.

Which makes me think about this song that was popular in early college.

Then we got some great news today.  My niece Catherine, who will turn 25 next week, is now engaged. She is the second oldest grandchild, the first to graduate college and start a career, and the most socially awkward.  In our family, whenever someone appears to be on the autistic spectrum (myself included here) we say, “Oh! you mean like Caty”.

But love is love, and people find each other across miles and miles with the internet.

Her fiance is in the Air Force and is expecting a deployment any day now, but still… there is a whole lot of “awwwwwwwwww” going on in family Facebook groups.

You might say, cynically, well so what? People get married and divorced every day. But not in my family, or my religion. Which are basically the same anyway.

For example, there are 30 of my generation on my dad’s side alone, and of us, only five are divorced. I am doubly divorced which makes me supa-freaky. And not in a good way.

All of which leads me up to an announcement: I have published another ebook of poems.

And, it thrills me to say: all my so-far published poems (and I have twice or thrice that many started and not finished) have been collected into one paperback.

100 poems

So maybe I won’t say bah humbug about today. Love is love, and it’s all I want to feel.

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