Reading my letter to Ellie still makes me cry, even now, almost 4 years after her passing. She was certainly a good egg, I was lucky to know her.

I'd like to thank my three loyal readers for their donations. Thank you thank you thank you!!!!

In setting up the table at the top for my Relay for Life donation plea, I found this letter that I wrote to Ellie, just a few days after she came home to us in April of 2000. I like to think that for the most part, I made good on all of these promises.

It is for her, for the dogs like her who do not get to die in someone's arms the way she did, who don't get the very best of love, of snacks, of treats and walks until her little body gave out that I'll walk. I know that the money raised goes towards human research but the advances made do trickle into the veterinary world so it's worth the effort. Just like loving Ellie was.

(April 12, 2000) Dear Ellie,

I've been your mom for all of 6 days, but it pains me as if you'd been ours for 6 years to see you in pain. I know that the warm bed and love I give you will mean more to you than these words, I write this to you from my own selfish need to mourn you.

You haven't left this world yet, but it's growing clearer to me every hour that you're getting ready. The vet tells me that your tumor has most likely spread, that they can do their best with surgery but it can never be fully removed. You seem to be telling me that you're ready to cross the Rainbow Bridge and as your mom, I have to respect what you want to do, what you need to do.

I promise to keep you as comfortable as possible, to give you as much love as you'll let me while you're with us but I understand that you're almost ready to go. You don't want to eat, you shake with pain and you want only to sleep. Soon, my darling, we'll let you sleep all the time and you'll be free of pain.

It would be easy to burden myself, wondering why you were brought into my life for such a short time, but I think I know. Everyone deserves to die comfortably and to have someone mourn their passing. That is what I can and will do for you. You've taught me so much already, I'm sure that your lessons for me are only beginning. Thank you for choosing me to learn them.

I will love you always and be grateful for the peace I've been able to give you this last week. I will not let you suffer. Waiting for you when it's time are Daisy, my growing up beagle and a very special guy named Mr. Tahoe. They've been making a place for you and will show you where the treats are. Mr. Tahoe will also introduce you to a special snack called Pupcorn.

Ellie, let me know when you're ready to go. You'll cross the Bridge in a warm, safe place, surrounded by love. You have my word on it.

Love always,

your Mom Liz

Ack!
This was so my worst nightmare, moreso than having beans come back to haunt me or a general type of B.O. that everyone knows about but me. I sneezed and let a big, uncontrollable fart at the same time.

At home, all alone in my office there, this is no big deal. But I sit in a large bull pen with 9 of my co-workers just feet away from me.

I don't think the sneeze was timed well enough to cover the fart. I swear I saw them laughing. I'm mortified.

I've joined a team in the Relay for Life which raises money for cancer research. We'll be walking around the clock on July 10-11 in lovely Campbell CA and of course, I'm asking for your donations.

Why do this? Becuase first and foremost, cancer sucks. It's robbed me of a wonderful grandfather who I didn't get to know for long enough, robbed my friends of their parents and is slowly robbing me of a couple of friends right now. I know that walking for one day won't save my friends but it might help even a little. If nothing else, I'm making a statement, a statement that says clearly "I support you." Sometimes, that's enough.

If you'd like to make this statement too, please make a donation and I'll walk in honor of anyone you choose.

Burned Out
I think what's happened is that the Great Stress of the last month (which is entirely different than the Great Stress of the last six months, which remains None of Your Business) has pushed my body over the edge and I'm now a victim of my own bad self. Exhausted, grumpy, sort of stumbling around like a drunkard, tummy-aching, stuffy nose, sore shoulders and all, I'm ready to collapse, a gelatinous mass in front of the portable air conditioner that Andrea was amazing enough to score from her office last fall.

May that gentle hum bring forth a boundless supply of cool air and help my tired body repair itself. After all, I have a game on Wednesday.

Craptacular
Andrea and I played at 2 pm yesterday with the A-Team II. I had a really hard time getting into the game, I think in part because 2 pm is really early for a non-tournament game and because the skill level on both our team and the other teams is all over the map. I've grown spoiled by the homogeny on the Seals and in the women's league and it's hard to figure out which guy is actually fast, which guy can stick-handle too and which guy just can't stop. One guy checked me into the boards, hurting my hurt shoulder once again, then calling me honey afterwards when I tried to explain that this is a non-checking league.

DO NOT, DO NOT, DO NOT CALL ME HONEY ON THE ICE. Or ever.

Lucky for him, we'll be playing his team all season and despite me being just a girl to him, I'm acutally a much more skilled player so we'll see what happens next time I'm behind him on the boards. I hate to be like that but, HONEY? Come on.

We won 2-1, extending our record to 2-1. Not too shabby.

Late in the afternoon, I started feeling like crap and fell asleep for a couple of hours, waking up in time to admire Andrea's excellent yardwork and to have a quick dinner before the A-Team I played at 11 pm. Despite feeling like crap, I felt like I had a much better game. We also won that game, 3-1.

Today, I still feel like crap but at least I have 2 wins under my belt.

Yesterday, Andrea and I just farted around all day, something we hadn't done in a long long time. I found some rad new sandals at REI, along with a couple of really cute t-shirts. We also paid yet another visit to the Honda dealership, where I once again, touched, sat in and prodded the Element I've been thinking of buying. Unlike the last two times, when I had no money, a dying car and visited the dealership in the rain, yesterday was bright and sunny, my car is still dying but I finally have some money. All of this made me look at the Element in a totally new light that made the doors seem tinny (a major factor of consideration in my family, my dad loves his Camry but hates the tinny doors. Every time he climbs into his shiny Passat, he comments on how heavy, and thus, how satisfying, the door weight is.) and the interior seem cheap.

After really considering why I'd need a car that large (I don't. Andrea's car is large enough to haul all of our crap, dogs and hockey gear alike, even if it means I'd need to borrow it sometimes for the Seals carpool), I started to see that in the end, I remain a VW girl. I adore the Toureg, but the thing is like $40,000 for the base model. Even if I'm earning a decent salary, that's still too much ching for a car like that.

So I think, maybe, that in the next 6 months to a year, I'll be getting a silly car with no grownup value whatsoever, a New Beetle Convertible.

Why not? Soon enough, I'll need the kind of responsible car that I've always owned (my car history is a series of station wagons, sensible sedans and yes, a van), I may as well have a totally frivolous car. Woo!