I threw out my dead plant today. To my defense, my husband killed my poor bamboo by shoving the little low light lover under a blazingly bright growth bulb. But I was so far removed from caring for it, I didn’t argue.

See…this bamboo once lived in my office. My writing office. My office I have been avoiding for the last 8 months.

Other things I have avoided the last 8 months...

~ all my friends (online and IRL)
~ my writing (haven't touched a manuscript since April)
~ social media
~ paying my bills
~ doing my hair, or even brushing it

Back near the beginning of the year, I injured my back at work and was effectively a walking zombie. Thankfully my local RWA chapter let me step down from the role I had accepted with a lot more grace than I probably deserved.

Because when I walked out of my last RWA meeting, I didn’t intend to go back.

I was going to have a lot to say about how I had mentally imploded this past year and what I was going to try and do to tear myself out of it. I had it all planned in my head. I was going to login to Twitter first. Tell people I was going to go live on Facebook, and then get online and just talk.
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However, I decided to do this on Christmas Eve. Well, turns out RWA decided to take a ride on the WTFery Express that very same day.

As a pro lurker, I always "read the room" before I talk. I had cocooned myself into a tight ball of YouTube and Shelly Laurenston re-reads. I probably re-read her Mangus Pack, Pride, and Badger series, three times this year. That woman's books offered me so much comfort, that I have no way to repay her. Anyway, I knew better than to jump in to any online forum without seeing what else was going on. What I saw had my jaw on the floor.

Check out various hashtags like #IStandWithCourtney and #RWAShitshow for some current information, because even as I write this shit is changing. I'm not up to date, but this is where the majority of the information is flowing through, and where a lot of people are organizing.

Smart Bitches, Trashy Books put out a great article on the goings on, with links to the official filings.

@RomancingNope has a great thread on the goings on.

Needless to say, I knew better than to hop on a live feed and ask how everyone’s day was.  

At this point, my RWA membership has long since lapsed, and so had my local chapter membership.

I am not about to come on this dusty blog and say I dropped my membership as soon as I learned what had gone on. I was already gone, but I can say I'm not surprised. Because if I had learned anything through my time in RWA, it was that the organization was about fitting in and doing things the "right" way.

I'm a white woman. I never experienced anything close to the brush aside that many authors of color had. I also came to RWA as a PAN (Paid Authors Network) member. So I had some legs to stand on. My first book released through Samhain Publishing (RIP) earned just enough to skate into the title. 
 
Here's the main reason I struggled in RWA... I am not wealthy. I am not financially secure. And I felt every bit the poor schlub during each and every “opportunity” RWA afforded me.   

I work a part time job, because daycare erased enough of my salary as a general manager that I would have taken a paycut if I had stayed where I was after my third child was born.

That’s right. Third. I am a momma. Have been for over fifteen years now. And let me tell you, horror stories have nothing on the thought of turning the boychild loose behind the wheel. I made a decision early on that I would not publicly post about my kids. But I did myself a disservice by segmenting that part of myself. And I'm going to stop that going into this new year.
 
When my kids were younger, nap time meant writing time. I had an easy schedule and aside from a few quirks that come from two of my kids dancing on the autism spectrum, there were only a few days I had to shut all the chairs in another room to save some of the furniture from a determined and impressively strong 2 year old and his tantrum.

When I started writing, it was an escape from talking about Thomas the Train, and getting to imagine a world where I played with sexy, confident, and fun characters.

I was blessed to get in with a few amazing women whose books I loved, and they took me under their wing. They gave me a boost, and I published my first books. 

Those books didn't take off. And when Samhain Publishing went under, the meager checks that had been paying for my self-published work, and giveaways, evaporated. 

There was no money coming in. I figured it was a hiccup, and I threw myself into RWA. There were a lot of successful women in my local chapter.

Surely I'd find advice to get where I wanted to be if I just took these classes...
If I just bought this book that my chaptermates recommended...
If I just went to this conference...
If I just went out to dinner with these people...
If I just entered this contest...

Do you see the problem with this plan I was working on? Everything cost money. I skrimped and saved. I haven't bought clothes from anywhere but a thrift store in over five years. "A Meal Out" for our family treat is McDonalds. We are splurging if we grab crazy bread with our Little Caesars.

The credit card debt started to climb as my kids found their own passions. Surely, I'll start making money again. I just needed to do this one more thing. Right?!?!

But the money never came in. My chapter was nice, but I kept getting the impression that everyone expected me to do more. Surely someone can provide snacks for the group. Surely someone can donate their time. Surely someone is able to take our guest out to dinner. 

My last year at RWA I took advantage of the "Perseverance Fund". This is a fund where you get to write a stranger and tell them you don't have money. It's super fun.

I don't ever ask for money. I make do on what I have. And begging for freebies made me feel like absolute shit. There's not too many people who take advantage of the fund. RWA board, this isn't the way to do this. I'm not sure what the other option is, but if no one uses the current option, you need to look at the reasons why. My reason? It feels degrading.

In my real life the bills started to pile, and the debt collectors started ringing my phone. I was in over my head. Way over my head. So I hid.

To the people I roped into writing with me...I have no excuse. I am so incredibly sorry I abandoned all of you. I put a message in our group.

Working my way out of the hole I was in both mentally and financially took everything I had in me, and I couldn't open anything involving this part of my life. I finally had to admit that I screwed up, and apologize. So that's what I'm working on now.

I'm not going to say I know what I'm doing anymore, because I obviously don't. What I am going to say, is that RWA didn't work for me, and I felt like a huge fucking failure for having all the support I did, and not making it. 

What am I going to do in 2020? 

I'm going to survive. 

I'm going to rediscover my joy in both reading and writing.

I'm going to try and tell you about it in this blog.

For a good while, I wrote here everyday. It's not "RoxyRocksMe.com" anymore, because someone bought my domain out from under me when it lapsed. I'm working on updating my social media to reflect that. I'll try and buy back the other domain if the money comes in to do so. Otherwise...it's just my name now. 

And that's kind of fitting for where I'm at mentally. I'm just me. I'm not an expert, I'm just trying the best I can, and trying to share what I love and what works. 

If you're willing to follow along with me, I'd love to have you.

Here's to 2020. Let's see what happens.

~Roxy

I follow quite a few editors I admire on Twitter. While scrolling mindlessly one day, some of them started talking about something called "#RevPit" and "#10queries".

So I went through the new to me hashtags and worked my way back to an article called "February #10Queries Event". It was an event that would show editors during a twelve hour timespan tweeting about submitted queries and first five pages. I have a few other agents and editors I follow that do something similar, and I'm always fascinated by what makes an agent or editor pick up or reject a manuscript. (Follow @LZats and her #500Queries thread if you aren't already.)

I needed to keep up on this shit! It was a no-brainer to go through the rafflecopter widget the blog post used and see if there were any other interesting people I needed to stalk. 

Not only do I love finding new writerly people on Twitter, but it would help me remember to follow the stream the day of. Well, turns out, by following these people, I was entering to win a review of my own query and first pages.

A query and first pages I didn't have yet. Which became glaringly obvious to my sleep-deprived brain when an email came through telling me I'd won and needed to send my query letter and first five pages within two days.

Ummmm....

I texted my lovely critique partner with a huge HELP! She told that we had this, and we got to work. Oh the things we're able to accomplish when we have a deadline, am I right? I had a manuscript that was "almost" done. I had an entire notebook filled with my brainstorming scribbles, and I had a few inspiration pics along with a happy notes notebook filled with research. A polished first five and decent query? Nope. Definitely didn't have that anywhere near done.

So we worked. My CP is fucking brilliant, and somehow she says the perfect things that send me in the directions I didn't know I needed to go. We had something at the end that flowed beautifully. It had taken us all damn night, but the eve of the due date, I hit send.

Sure...the morning after I double checked everything and had a "choose/chose" error. Because OF COURSE I DID. But it was off into the void, and there was no taking back that email.

​I was suddenly obsessed with following the #10Queries hashtag. The few days between us sending off our work, and the event were filled with editors teasing us in the best way. 

The day of, I stalked the feed far more than I thought I would. But before you tease me relentlessly, here's the thing... I hadn't put my work out to anyone in over a year. My little creative heart was absolutely palpitating just waiting for the first scraps of feedback. 

It turned out there were only a couple paranormal romance books entered into the contest, so my CP and I traded screenshots and tweets over the course of the event. 

"What about this one?"

"Nah. I wouldn't describe your writing like that. Maybe this one?"

"Nope, didn't have that event in my pages. Not me."

Rinse. Repeat. Continue for twelve hours. 

​Okay. Event over. It ended at 10pm which is usually my bed time. Some of the editors posted that they'd sent off the reveal of who their tweets were for. 

I checked my email. Nope. Not mine. I stayed up until 11:30pm that night, which for this early bird is pushing it. When I got up at five in the morning the next day (#5amclub4life) I checked again. Nope. Nothing. Nadda.

I waited, scrolled, obsessed, and guessed for the better part of the next five days, and honestly, it got a little sad. Some folks were posting about the "great feedback" and "all the work" that the editors did. Okay. I subdued my mind a little by guessing my editor must have been putting some specific suggestions together regarding my query and first five. If I had to wait a little longer for an email, I'd suffer through it.

​Then the email came. Five days later. And revealed my tweets. Just my tweets. No other feedback was provided.

At least I found out which tweets were mine, and for the most part, they overwhelmingly positive. But here's my overall takeaway from this event.

I think that by following along trying to figure out which tweets were mine, I lost some of the value in the other tweets. Because once I eliminated them and moved to the next, it was hard to pay attention.

Like I said, the tweets were the only feedback I received. So if you're going into this thinking you're going to get a track changes style edit, don't get your hopes up. Maybe others got more detailed review than I did, but I think it all depended on which editor was randomly assigned the projects.

While it was good for me to practice the query, and get my editing gears turning again, I don't think I'd enter this particular contest again, because I feel like I missed out on a lot of the advice in the other tweets. My obsessive mind latched onto which tweets were about me, and I couldn't stop tearing them apart looking for clues. 

I think the #10Queries loop was fantastic to follow as a spectator, however. Now that I'm on the other side of the event, I've been reviewing some of the information, and I missed a lot of the good stuff. 

And while I'm not jumping up and down, I do have a query letter finished that I wouldn't have otherwise. Win. I'm going to send it off to a few other people to get some detailed feedback on, because I'd like some specifics. And I'm more confident it's not a total piece of garbage. Also a win.

Turned out this event came before the due date for my #CarinaPitch entry I got a like on. So...it was a damn good couple months on Twitter for me. 

Have you entered a Twitter pitch contest before? What did you think of it? Were your expectations higher than the reality? Would you enter your particular event again? I'd love to hear about it.

​~Roxy

Let's start this little internet wormhole story at the beginning.

This morning I woke up and got my day started with meditation. I'm using Audible's 21 Days of Meditation by Aaptiv. Today was day eight, and the type of mediation involved opening and closing one nostril at a time.

Turns out my right nostil is an asshole that only sucks in a straw stirrer's worth of air at a time, and I spent my whole meditation time wondering if I was going to pass out or hyperventilate from lack of oxygen while snuffing through only that bastard nostril.

We finally get through the breathing torture and the girl, Jess, who is the voice of this whole thing starts to tell me through my earbuds that we have a dominant nostril. Well, it's pretty obvious that my left nostril is the bitch in charge. Then Jess tells me that our body rotates dominant nostrils through the day.

Wait...what? This can't be a thing. I'm thoroughly convinced this can't be a thing. This has to be some woo woo hippie crap. 

So what do we all do when we find out new information? I googled that shit.

After a few missed topic searches...

No, Google, I don't need to know how to use a Neti Pot to unclog my sinuses.

I found a topic on non-allergy non-illness related medical reasons I might not be able to fully utilize my right nostril. Of course this was a medical site, so I automatically have cancer. *sigh*

But alongside the polyps, and cancerous tumors, there was also the glory of deviated septums. 

Hubby actually had one of these, and surgery for it. I don't have this.

Back to google, I went until I found an article from a site called "Science Alert". (I'm not reading the whole article for you, but if you want to get actual sciencey facts, go HERE.)

Okay. Right up my alley. Now this site will tell me that Jess from the meditating woo woo world was wrong and my nose is reacting to something in my diet and I should cut out caffeine.  

Not that I'd ever do that, but I swear...every damn article I read tells me all my health problems are caused by coffee. But those same experts also said lettuce was good for me, and all the damn leafy greens are now recalled for salmonella. I'll keep my coffee until they decide it's healthy again. But nope. It's not coffee. This article AGREED with Jess! Not only that, but it said we go through a "Nasal Cycle" several times a day. 

What. The. Fuck.

How did I never learn about this in health class? Did I sleep through this part? Is this common knowledge?

Then the science folks dropped this one on me...

That's right, folks. Our noses get erections. Good gravy. Does everything have to act like a dick these days? Even my nose cavity is going through puberty?

Surely this isn't a thing. I would have noticed it by now.

So what does a woman of the world do? I tried the alternating breathing technique again. If this is really a thing, and we go through these cycles every day, my nose should be on a different cycle by now. (Now it sounds like my nose is menstruating. Great.)

Scientific worldly woman that I am, I did the same technique that was in my meditation. I was going to prove that my right nostril was a bastard and the low hole on the totem pole. 

I closed off the left nostril with my left thumb and inhaled.

My right side was totally open. It was performing like a champ. 

Huh. Maybe I was stuffed up this morning and didn't notice? I put my right thumb to my right nostril and inhaled.

AND MY LEFT SIDE WAS NOW THE WEAK LINK. I COULDN'T BREATHE.

​Guys...my mind was blown.

At this very moment...my left nasal cavity is all engorged. My nose is having erections. My brain is switching the dominant nostril and I'm really not sure how I didn't know something so basic about my body.

So if you ever see me out and about and I have my thumb against my nose, I'm not about to shoot a snot rocket. I'm just trying to see which side of my face is having a nose erection.

Did you know this was a thing? Am I the only clueless person out there who didn't know this was something our bodies did? Or do you have any wonderfully weird facts about our bodies that I need to know about. Obviously, someone needs to educate me.

~Roxy

Sooner or later everyone seems to have their sleep interrupted by our brains taking us on an extended trip to crazy town.

Last night my brain was working overtime, which meant I'm guzzling the coffee while my animals get the contented rest I completely missed out on last night.

You would think, with all the Halloween movies and spooky stuff around that my nightmares would be surrounding some kind of ghost or murder spree at a sleep-a-way camp. Nope. What kept waking me up last night was a nightmare about a Groundhog Day style airport loop. 

Okay. Okay. I get it. It doesn't sound like something that would keep a person up at night, but I promise, these types of nightmares are the ones that really drive me to miss sleep.

Do you ever feel like you're constantly behind? On track to get absolutely nothing done and failing those around you so incredibly that you wonder why you are allowed to label yourself an adult?

Then you know how it is when you've got so many balls in the air, your subconscious is just positive you're going to drop them all.

That's where my worst dreams come into play. It's always some high stress situation. Like a school day where I forget where I'm supposed to be. (I hated school. I was good at it, but I hated it.) Or if I'm trying to make dozens of important meetings.

Well, last night it was all about catching flights. The airport was my loop of hell. 

I was running late from leaving the rental home. This consisted of throwing things in a suitcase without any organization, and knowing we were seconds away from missing our flights. I threw things away without really looking at them because I needed to get everyone out the door and out before we got in trouble. 

I have had a few trips where I flat out left things in the trash I didn't have room for. I've abandoned shoes so I'd have room for books from a conference before. Priorities. 

Back to my dream. We were so far behind, even if we'd left something important, it was way better than missing the plane. We didn't have time to fold, or sort, or plan. 

We made it to the airport and then everyone wanted something different to eat and split off in different directions. I was chasing down other grown-ass people because it was my job to corral all of them. And I sucked at it. 

I was chasing everyone around and sure enough, I hear that the flight we need to be on is boarding.

With my heart racing, and knowing that all these slow m-fers are depending on me to get them where they need to be, I get everyone on a golf cart and start racing through the airport.

Because of course we have golf carts in the airports. There was a golf cart lane in my dream. Wouldn't that be awesome?

But just as we were pulling up, the plane was backing away from the gate. We'd missed the flight.

Welp...instead of dealing with the fallout or some kind of weird dream twist, the scene would just start over. And the pressure kept building. I knew in my dream that I'd failed before, and I'd fail again, but I had to keep trying and there was no escape. Think the endless cycles of dishes and laundry, but with consequences beyond odor.

I was late, and letting everyone down, and instead of coming up with a solution afterward, I just had to fail over and over and over again.

Then my cat woke me up by walking on top of me. I pushed kitty to the side, but hubby was snoring, and my heart was still racing from the seemingly endless stress from the dream loop. 

There was no falling back asleep. I didn't want the loop to start over again. 

​So here I am telling you about it on my blog, because I can still feel the stress hitting the back of my neck where there's just a little extra tension. I can feel my teeth are sore from grinding them together last night. And I can feel the fog, that waking up at 3am causes. 

I see a nap in my future, but I need to watch something to take my mind off of it. 

I've journaled, meditated, and zoned out to some kick-ass planner babe videos on YouTube already. 

What is your go-to destress technique? I'd love to hear it. Because if I try to nap and I'm back at that damn airport, I might just throw something across the room.

~Roxy

Did you notice I didn't blog yesterday? Well...it was all my hubby's fault.

Hubby had a late flight coming back home from a work trip. My normal wake up time is 5am. So my normal bed time is 10pm. Hubby's flight was scheduled to get in at 11:35pm.

​

Well, I'm a planner! I got this. I scheduled myself a nap and bought three energy drinks to help me keep going. I spaced them out to get the crash around 1am. That way I could have enough time to drive on the energy high. I packed an extra one with me just in case my body rebelled against the late bedtime.

Just as I had finished my second energy drink, I get the text no one wants when they are responsible for picking someone up from the airport.

"Flight is delayed."

New time was 12:30 am. Not great, but I could get through it. Getting home at 1am wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the worst. Then the airline moved gates. Twice. There were no updates, and no info from the airline, so I was refreshing the websites loaded on my computer and texting updates to hubby while he was stuck in Texas. Where, apparently, everything is bigger, including airports. Because he had to take trams to get to the different gates he kept bouncing between. 

Then about fifteen minutes before he was supposed to board, they moved the time again. New arrival? 3:36am!

At this point in the evening it is the time I have trained my body to go to bed. But I'm also two energy drinks and a nap in, so my ability to actually fall asleep is completely out the window. 

Hubby said there is now a reported hydraulic fluid leak, so the plain is grounded. Okay. Better to not get on that plane. I approve. 

But that they also have no pilots because the ones who were supposed to fly them home had their shifts end. Of course they did.

Hubby was now at the airport, with no flight, no plane, no pilots, and I'm still awake because I have no idea when or if he's coming home. 

Did I mention I have to be up by 9am at the latest the next day? Yup.

The airline promised updates every 15 minutes. But didn't end up giving a single one.

The latest update we found online, because the people at the airport had no clue what was going on, said new arrival was 2:30am. Okay. I knew I needed some sleep. The flight itself was two hours, so worst case scenario, hubby was going to call me and wake me up if they got on the plane earlier.

I have to admit, the next few hours were fuzzy. Looking back on the texts, hubby moved gates again, was told a few different times, and complained while I snagged 15-30 minute naps.

​Finally, he texted me that he was on a plane!

Then the plane had to refuel and sat on the runway for an hour AFTER they boarded.

In the end, I didn't get my hubby hug until 3:32am. And we didn't roll into the house until after 4am. 

So I spent all of yesterday OD'd on caffeine and feeling like shit. I had to run errands, I had to be dressed in real pants, and I did it all feeling drunk because I was so damn tired. 

Moral of this story time...don't ask me to stay up late and expect any level of productivity the next day. 

I'm apparently way too old for that all-nighter shit.

Bonus moral...don't fly American Airlines during shift change. LOL.

We ended up having a 4 hour delay. What was your longest delay? Did they make you sprint to different gates too? Or better yet, tell me what airline has never let you down? Who should hubby fly with next time?

~Roxy

After this morning and the hours I spent organizing my bills and apps for the new month a few days ago, I am over technology.

Like...if there was a tradeoff where I wouldn't have to enter a password or answer security questions ever again, but I had to submit to an anal probe once a month, I'd schedule the appointment today.

I now keep 4 pages of my Bullet Journal just for passwords and logins. BECAUSE YOU NEED A LOGIN AND PASSWORD FOR EVERYTHING. I have avoided some websites and store fronts because I don't want to deal with yet another damn password. My brain is too full.

For real, I have tried to come up with a password that meets all the expectations of all websites, but I think it would take a supercomputer to come up with such a beast, and even then, I'd never remember the fucking thing,

I'm going to sound real old here, but there was once a time where you could just have words as you password. You know...that thing that has "WORD" in it? "Password" used to be the most popular password. And I'd wager it wasn't because the people using it were stupid, but because folks like me are just so goddamn over remembering how to login.

I was riding the struggle bus for quite some time with remembering all my passwords, but I did get a bullet journal layout done and was happily able to find the information I needed to get into sites I wanted. 

Until...one day I get a notification. 

To keep your information secure, we recommend you update your password.

Don't let the "recommend" part fool you. They don't give you a choice. *old woman grumble*

Fucking fine. I'll change it. I get out my notebook and whiteout my old password and write in the password I plan to use. After that I turn back to my computer and type in my NEW password. 

But instead of taking me to where I need to go, I get a pop up...

Your password must contain capital letter, numbers, and at least one of the following characters.

I get my whiteout back out and cover up a password that never even got the chance to shine. But I remember I used to have a password that might have met these requirements, and since I'd used it before, I stood a slight chance of remembering it.

So over the second layer of whiteout I write in my new new password. 

Typing this brilliant and not completely obscure password into the box, I tell the computer to update my password.

So I'm done right? Oh, fuck no. Now the box says...

The password cannot be one you've used in the last five years.

I make up something I know I'm never going to remember with out getting out my notebook, but whatever. At this point I'm ready to be done with this task.

​After I disclose my blood type and answer ten security questions including what my hamster's favorite color in second grade was, the damn website decides it's still not good enough.

Now I need to verify the change by entering a code from a text message they'll send me.

A TEXT TO A PHONE NUMBER I NO LONGER HAVE!

Oh, but don't worry. I can change the phone number by entering a different code sent to an email. Which is sent to an also outdated email address. Thank goodness for my four pages of logins and passwords. But...plot twist...when I go to login into my old email...wait for it...

I HAVE TO UPDATE THE PASSWORD TO GET INTO MY EMAIL

So basically, what I'm saying is, I'm ready to sign whatever waiver they want. Give me a fingerprint scanner, give me a retina scanner, fuck...I'll bleed into a computer if it lets me not need passwords.

I gave up on getting my passwords updated for now. I need a break. I'm off to read a book. Maybe I'll read a historical. Something with NO COMPUTERS.

​~Roxy

Okay, so I am Jenna Marbles if she was older, poorer, and fatter, but I connect with this girl's spirit. This video cracked me up because it mirrored my own life so much. Here. Watch it.

I work in a pet store. Which in itself is a recipe to have a zoo at home without too much effort. Thankfully, I work at a store that encourages adoption over sales and doesn't sell pets. But we do occasionally have rescue groups come in with adoptable animals. We used to have kittens from a local shelter in store all the time. Let me tell you how hard it was.

My hubby is allergic to cats. Well, he says he was. But he used to have a cat in his house when he was a kid. So I figured he just needed some daily exposure. I was never the type of person to impulse adopt a pet. The only time that happened was when hubby and I found a bearded dragon that was so incredibly mistreated at a pet store that we bought her just to save her life. (But that's a whole other story time. Today is about kitties.)

One day a grey and white kitten came into the store, and I loved him. There were other cats that I fell for, because...well, shit...you try not to fall in love with kittens. It's impossible. But this guy had something special. And then some batshit crazy people with a ton of kids came in, banging on the cages, freaking out the animals, and pulling their tails. They turned in an application to adopt the baby. My baby kitty was NOT going to that house.

So I told hubby about it. He said no. I told hubby about the people. He said that sucks, and no. I told hubby that I would buy dander reducing spray, be the one to clean the litterboxes for all time, and do all the grooming. He said no. 

Then I purposely left something I knew I'd need for work at home, and called hubby to bring it to me. When he did, I put this tiny grey and white fluffball in his arms, and demanded he acknowledge how cute the cat was. The tiny kitten who was a bit of a wildman settled into hubby's arms like he belonged there, reached his paw up to hubby's face and meowed the tiniest cutest meow that had ever been mewed by a kitten. 

A few days later, we had a kitten in the house.

Jenna's video reminded me of those first few days, because we also had two dogs, who had NEVER seen a cat before. We did all the tricks to adjust them. Scent sharing, space swapping, meeting on neutral ground, we did it all. We even got homeopathic doggy downers. Within 4 days we had a settled family who was playing together. My cat has a lot of dog qualities since he grew up with them, and my younger dog sleeps in the sun and cleans her face with her paws. So they blend well. 

Hubby takes an allergy pill once a day, and we have to wash the bedding the cat likes to snuggle on more often, but every once in a while hubby sends me pictures of our kitty curled up on his lap, and I don't know that I've ever seen him smile so big. 

As I'm typing this out, my now three year old cat is cuddled up on an ottoman next to my desk. It's pretty damn wonderful.

I've always been the type of person who says people come into your life for a reason. Either you need them, or they need you. But there is always an undeniable connection that makes me pay attention. Animals are the same way. Your family, furry and four-legged, or human and huggable, finds you. 

The two furbabies below, definitely chose me. Thankfully, they chose each other too. 

Do you have animals that chose you to be their human? Tell me their story or send me their pictures! I'd love to see some cute puppies, kittens, or reptiles you've claimed as your family.

​~Roxy