The little things that count...

Every year, we reach the end of the year and comment about what a bad year it was, and that the next year will be better. We repeat the sentiment. "What a bad year. Next year will be better." I can honestly say that this year has been one of the worst I've ever experienced. And I've experienced a lot of pain and really bad times in my life. Those bad times are usually just life happening. Divorce, financial strain, emotional break-downs. You always manage to pick yourself up and move on.

This month has been a bit of a hectic financial month. It started with a vet visit for my Bionic dog, Bella. I nicknamed her Bionic Bella, not because she has any robotic parts, but she's looks like she's been through 5 different wars. She's always been the dog to come out second best in a fight, but she's also made it through some situations other dogs would not have. Bella and Koda (my 3 year old pup who is about 5 times her size) had a fight one night. She had a few scratches but nothing serious. The way she is, she carried on like nothing was wrong (I once came home to find half her cheek hanging off - her and her brother Odie had been in a fight). She developed an abscess and I had to take her to the vet to get her on a course of antibiotics.

I was speaking to friend this weekend. I call most people I speak to, even if occasionally, a friend. I was saying that from next year I need to make more effort to get out and be social. The conversation actually came from people asking where I find the time to make all the beaded products I make (and of course hula hoops), be a single mom (which includes no domestic help at home), and work a full day job. My answer at first was : "I sit at night and make things while watching TV". Then came the next part "And I have no social life, so my weekends are spent keeping myself busy making stuff".

For years I've made really awful decisions regarding men and relationships. It's not a secret. I'm known for making these bad decisions. I think I'm starting to understand why I just kept getting worse with each "man" I dated.