She’s one today! I have a complete post over at my You Had Me At Woof Photography® Photo Blog. She’s a tough subject but I love her all the same. We are now doing agility, obedience and rally–she’s a little working dog machine.
One would never know by this image that she was an agile, dutiful, obedient girl. But hey, it’s her birthday. Cut her some slack.
Today you are 8. I think that is great.
My water broke in the early a.m. yet you didn’t come out until the late p.m. You screamed and cried. You were rather pissed off given you had some kind of weird monitors screwed into your head while I was delivering you. Not to mention that it took a vacuum to get your huge Biasotti head out of me. Man, I would be screaming the rest of the night, too. You stopped immediately when I took you out of your bassinet, and held you in my arms all night.
Now you are growing up. You are a dog lover, an athlete, and a delight to watch. Happy Birthday.
I almost didn’t remember it. Probably it’s a good thing since I have been caught up with school starting, sports, dog training with Karma and a failed NIC on my PC which has caused my wireless network to cease working. Thank goodness for Peets Coffee and free wifi. Dante looked up at me last night and said, “Mom, isn’t tomorrow the 31st? Isn’t it Riley’s birthday?” Yes. Yes it is. That kid has a memory like an elephant. Details. He’s a statistician. Ask him the box scores from last night’s A’s game and he will not only tell you what all the plays were in the inning, but he will tell you the number order of how the out was made. I have no idea what the numbers are for each spot but he sure does.
So, that’s a good thing that I didn’t get weepy and depressed this week thinking about Riley’s birthday, right? I can write about him now without mascara running down my face each time his name comes up. Don’t get me wrong–there’s tears in my eyes still–they just haven’t spilled all over my laptop. I guess that’s called healing.
My son Kyle turned 14 the other day. Forgot to mention he’s an ever changing person–taller than me and a bigger smart-#$%$% than me. But he’s maturing beautifully and at times I feel the urge to want to grab a box of hair color to hide the gray he gives me. It’s all good. I finally gave in and succumbed to the pleas for a cell phone. Texting is his new hobby. When he isn’t found playing his guitar in lieu of homework you can find him straining his thumbs and wrists. Apparently the unlimited texting feature I paid so handsomely for has paid for itself twenty-fold. So, yes, happy belated birthday my 10 pound 5.5 ounce bundle of joy. Here’s to another 14 years. 
I write this post with a raging headache and level of fatigue that plagues any new parent. Yes. I am a new parent. I finally have the daughter I have always longed for. Little Ms. Karma Biasotti has joined the household at 9 weeks of age and is resting comfortably on Riley’s old pillow next to my feet in my office. She came home last night. It’s been almost 10 years since I raised a puppy so it feels like I am rusty in some of the routine. Like any other mom I worry about her getting enough food, her poops and sleep schedule.
Karma has a sprinkle of Riley in her–her great great grandfather was Riley’s grandfather, Dakotah. Karma was conceived right around the time Riley became ill and passed away so abruptly. She comes from a surprise litter. Her breeder wasn’t planning on breeding her little agility star mama Sunshine but nature had a different plan and the little dynamo gave birth to 9 healthy puppies. Red collar girl came home with me. She’s smart. Very smart. We have an obedience and possibly agility path to follow ahead of us. Here’s a photo I casually snapped of my new princess today. Girl Power. Finally, I am not the only bitch in the house.
If you love Curb Your Enthusiasm you are going to be so jealous of me. I just received the BEST stuff in the mail today from my dear buddy Amy who had the nerve to get out of expensive California and move back to Virginia where all her family is. She has been such a wonderful friend for the past 5 years and you know how when you get older it gets harder and harder to forge those friendships that are meaningful and lasting. She moved back to Virginia after living in the Bay Area for eleven years. I spent endless hours practicing my photography on her daughter and she really understood me. When she moved away I was heartbroken–then my dog passes away—it’s been one hell of an Autumn. In fact, she’s the kind of friend that was going to forsake Thanksgiving with her own family to come out and babysit my dog with cancer while I was on my family vacation! What kind of friend does that? A best friend I tell you. Unfortunately Riley didn’t want to cost us the $$$$ to fly Amy and her daughter out here to spend a lonely week taking care of him so he gracefully passed before that time (I think that dog had a plan) but I know she would have been here in a heartbeat if I needed her. Check out this wonderful gift she sent me just because. It really made me cry with happiness that someone cared enough to try and knock me out of this funk I have been in for the past month.
Before you go any further, just realize this is probably going to be one of the longest blog posts I have ever written about something and as you know, I am already a very wordy person who tends to drone on and on about nothing. Except this time it is about something. If you are a dog lover, this will be a good read for you, but if you are mildly interested in dogs you might think I am a crazy dog lady–sort of like the crazy cat ladies that keep 49 cats in their home and can’t understand why animal control is there raiding the place–well I am not a crazy dog lady but I am an animal lover.
So, print this out, read it on the subway, read it if you need to fall asleep and can’t, read it on the toilet–just realize your computer battery is only good for probably about an hour before it decides to crap out on you. You have been warned. Oh and these pictures aren’t cut off–I cropped them like this on purpose…hard to explain but sometimes all I want to see is a smile or a nose. They were taken one week before he passed away.
When I jetted home from San Diego a few weeks ago it was right after the last mini session and my future sister in law Kelly flew up with me. My brother in law, “Uncle Dave” was already at our house hanging out with my husband and children. Our flight was way late and we didn’t walk into my house until 12:30 am Sunday morning. Bob mentioned to me that Riley threw up the night before and hadn’t been eating. In fact, he was lethargic and sleeping on the stoop of my office all day. My office has a nice round step in front of it and it perfectly held my dog for hanging out when he wanted to be out of the house but not necessarily inside my office. He was next to me, he knew I was there and he listened to the outdoor sounds and enjoyed his shade and solitude. When he was ready to come into my office he would scratch the door with a single sweep of his paw and I would let him in where he would proceed to fall asleep near my chair or in his dog bed I kept nearby.
I managed to get Riley to eat when I came home and he held it down with no incident and seemed pretty good after that. Wednesday came and he wasn’t hungry and seemed off. He had trouble getting up quickly and when we were walking my youngest to school that morning he barely kept up with me. Sure sign there was something wrong. This is a dog that is a step ahead of me usually and I am correcting him all the time to get back to my side and heel like he is supposed to. I noticed his breathing was off too. Deep in the back of my mind and heart I suspected something was wrong. Not just wrong. I had a strong feeling he might have cancer. He was 9–he was getting up there in age and both his parents suffered and succumbed to cancer at the ages 8 and 9. Brought him in and they x-rayed. The vet came back and told me he had a swollen heart sack—fluid causing it to swell—and fluid in his chest and abdomen. Usually that is a sign of cancer. My heart sank. I called his breeder, Laura who immediately came down to the vet to hang out with me and hear the rest. Laura is a kind, wonderful person—you have seen her puppies featured on my blog—I have known her for a long time and trust her knowledge and experience raising, breeding and caring for dogs. Our last Golden, Paddy had spleen cancer and I remember 4 years ago all too well. Ultrasound came next. Riley’s spleen and lungs were fine. His heart however wasn’t. They located a cancer tumor on his heart. My world came crashing down. I knew he was going to leave me—but no one knows how long they stick around.
So, the vet drained the fluid around his heart. I am thinking it’s called a pericardial tap or something, but they also drained the other fluids from his system. Remarkably he was better again and eating and acting like himself the next day. He continued to act like his old self for the next 9 days. We played, he ate well, and we walked Dante to school and picked him up from school. We went to the Halloween parade at school and he was a darling Dorothy. I had my baby back and felt like I might have him for at least a few months.
On Friday the 7th of November I was scheduled to do all day mini sessions at Blue Sky in San Francisco. I woke up around 5 am and smelled something odd. I got out of bed and usually when I step down there is a curled up dog at my feet that I step on as his bed is next to my side of the bed. It was empty and I knew something was wrong since he doesn’t get up from sleep unless he has to go out and then he’s poking me and panting with a happy “heh heh heh”.
I walked into our living room and in the semi darkness I could see Riley lying on the floor near the area rug that separates our two facing couches. Thump, thump, thump his tail wagged on the floor when he saw me walk in. He didn’t move though. Here comes the TMI… All over the area rug was more poop than I ever care to see again in my lifetime. Ugh–so much and not normal for what a dog eliminates. I knew instantly he had experienced a seizure based on the volumes, consistency and horrific odor. He pretty much had hit all parts of this 6 foot plus long rug. No amount of Resolve carpet cleaner or any carpet cleaner for that matter could fix the amount damage that was done. It was ruined. And this is the funniest part ( yeah, it gets funny despite this tragic moment when I realize this day is the day) which I think Riley had a part in this destruction of the rug. Why? Because I absolutely hate the frickin’ rug. I always have. I hope my husband’s grandmother isn’t reading this (she doesn’t do the internet so I doubt she will) because she’s a generous, loving, kind, 90 year old woman but I was glad if he was going to mess up something it was that rug. It’s unattractive and doesn’t really go with our style, but she gave it to us when we put hardwood down in the house. My dog has a sense of humor—he could have picked anywhere in the house to have his seizure and shit fest—so many easy floors to clean up from with the exception of the dining room area which has brand new carpeting—he loses control on the area rug. In my heart I know he was doing me a service and helping me get rid of something I really didn’t like and didn’t want in the first place between my couches. I assume some other Biasotti family member will read this and know the truth so please don’t tell Mae that I have always hated her rug she gave us and that my dog thought of me in his time of crisis.
I tried to get Riley up. His tail wagged a bit still but he wouldn’t budge. Tried to get him to stand and he collapsed right back down. The tail wasn’t wagging anymore. I called out to Bob and told him what was going on. Bob got Riley to get up and walk through our kitchen into the garage where we had his food, water and a big pillow he sometimes slept on when we were not at home. He made it down the step and just dropped to the floor. I retrieved his dog bed from my bedroom and put him on that instead of just laying on the cold garage floor. I quickly cleaned up the mess in the living room and removed the area rug. So I hated the rug but a few flashbacks entered my mind about that horrible ugly rug. Many a morning I would wake up and sit on the floor on top of that ugly rug with my back against the couch, rubbing my eyes to wake up and just think about the day coming up. Riley would come trotting in when he knew I was up and trot forcefully into my face where I would be expected to pet him, scratch his ears and love him up until he had to turn around and plunk himself down next to me. Always had to sit as close to me as he could. That rug also was the scene where we would play and roughhouse. We had a game where I would pat his face with each hand on the sides and he would turn and pretend to nip them. I don’t know how to explain it—his mouth would be open and I would keep moving my hands and alternating them on each side and he would turn and try and catch them but he wasn’t biting me but you would think he was if you were the average person walking by. Sometimes I would let him catch my hand in his mouth and he would hold it gently between his teeth as if I was his captured toy. He NEVER bit me or tried to bite me—he knew it was a game and played along and I even would say something like “gentle” to him and he would immediately lick the hand or release it. He didn’t play this with anyone else that I know of except maybe Kyle tried this game with him and I am sure he did the same thing with Kyle. Kyle would wrestle with Riley there too. Damn rug. So ugly yet used for so many Riley moments.
So here I had a full day of mini sessions ahead of me in San Francisco. I felt like the world’s worst pet owner in the world as I left my house. I told Bob to keep the poor boy comfortable while I headed to the city. I must have talked to several people while I waited to get on to the Bay Bridge and finally was convinced by everyone I spoke with that it’s okay to cancel and reschedule. I contacted all my afternoon clients and did that. I got through the morning in a daze and tried contacting a visiting vet who would come to your home and take care of the inevitable. Ironically the one I contacted was booked solid that day. So I called my own vet and made an appointment to bring Riley in that afternoon. It was something I didn’t want to do—not because I couldn’t make the choice to euthanize but because I hate having my dog have to go through the process of getting in the car to never return home and see some sterile unfamiliar place as he shuts his eyes for the last time. I called Bob several times and kept asking how he was doing and he told me the same. Wouldn’t take water that Bob tried to squirt into his mouth with a medicine dropper. I even went as far as to ask Bob if he was still alive and if he was just saying things to not make me feel bad that I had already lost him. Bob insisted he was telling me the truth and I told him to keep him comfortable until I got home to be with him.
I must have made it home around noon. I popped up the garage door as I was coming home and parked in the driveway. With the garage door up I ran up to him and he was still there, off the bed I tried to get him to lay in. He wiggled around enough to change his positions and didn’t seem to want anything but the cold floor to lie on. I hugged him and cried. I had over an hour and half to just be with him until I would have to drive him to the vet. When Bob would open the door and come in every few minutes to check him, Riley’s eyes would look up at him. Around 12:40 pm I started talking to him and put my face next to his. I had no idea if he could really see or hear me but I just talked. I sat up and watched his irregular, labored breathing and took his left paw in my hand and held it. With the other hand I stroked his ears and said over and over “It’s okay. It’s okay.” At the time I didn’t realize it but I had just given him a release word. “Okay” is something said when waiting for food, ending a stay, waiting to jump up on to something. I would put food down and tell him “wait”. He would wait. I would say “okay” and he would then eat. So, after saying over and over “It’s okay, it’s okay” my Riley maybe moaned once and slowed down his breathing and basically died around 12:45 pm. I am glad I was with him during his last moments.
It’s still very surreal to me to have lost him. I still expect to find him on the floor of my office at my feet while I work on the computer. I still expect to wake up in the morning and put my feet on the floor to get up and gently brush past his sleeping body as I get up for the day. I still expect to see him get all excited and crazy when it’s time to walk to school to drop off or pick up Dante. I miss practicing our obedience exercises—his heeling by my side, the recalls, the sits and downs without breaking. I never completed the process to put a CD on him in the obedience ring. We never finished our agility training or entered agility competitions. We never completed even getting a CGC so that he could do therapy work. I put a lot of these things off and yet he was the greatest comfort I could ever ask for in a dog. I miss him stealing food off the dining room table and the kitchen counter. I even miss his stupid gas. Well. Maybe not but I miss the dog passing the stupid gas.
So, the dog photographer is without a dog right now. First time in 16 years my house has no animals. I know someday we will have another dog in our house but not anytime soon. I will just have to enjoy all the other dogs out there that belong to everyone else.
To all my friends and family that have reached out to comfort me during this time of sadness I thank you for your support and understanding. People have been so kind and have reached out and expressed their sympathy.
Late in the afternoon of Riley’s death, Bob and I took our sons for a drive in the Oakland Hills because I wanted to check out a location I was shooting at for the upcoming weekend. It would be a time to just get out of the house, away from the home Riley lived his life for 9 short years and the home where he died. I think we were coming down Skyline Blvd. as the sun was setting for the day. The San Francisco Bay was clear and calm. You could see forever across the bay and you could see the Peninsula, Marin, the bridges and understand why we live in such a beautiful part of the country. It was a gorgeous sunset and I noticed it right off.
That sunset the night of his death—that beautiful reddish orange sky overlooking the San Francisco Bay—I know that was him leaving this earth with beauty and grace.
I LOVED the 80’s. I loved the music. Some of the clothes. The carefree days. I found an old picture circa 1982 or 1983. I don’t have the exact date but it was during my freshman year at UCLA and I recognize the people in the photo as my dorm neighbors. What was happening then? I recall MTV had just surfaced–maybe not until 1983 but I do recall the one of the first music videos I ever saw was Squeeze singing “Black Coffee In Bed”. I remember my baseball team won the World Series that year (OH YEAH) and I blew off studying to watch my Cardinals kick the Brewers and win. I remember hearing the band X for the first time and seeing them play on campus and getting my feet trampled by a mosh pit of army boots. I remember taking the long walk from Hedrick Hall all the way down to Bruin Walk to get to my classes–no wonder I looked so thin then. I remember feeling uncomfortable with all the sorority and fraternity folks and all the material people that plagued the surrounding Westwood area and feeling out of place most of the time. Part of the reason I transferred after my freshman year was the huge lost feeling I felt going to classes with 35,000 other students dressed in preppy clothes with topsider shoes and alligator shirts. UGH. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fine campus if you enjoy all that. I had enough fun and met some nice people–in fact I still keep in touch with one of my old boyfriends from there but I look at this photo and remember what an awkward, silly time a person of 18/19 goes through. First of all, I do recall the names of the two people sitting on the bench. The girl I think was named Vanessa and that’s about all I can remember except she lived on my floor. The boy in between was named Greg. I even remember his last name. Greg lived down the hall from me about 3 or 4 rooms and had not one but two roommates. Considering our dorm rooms were made for only two occupants, you get the picture. One of the roomies was a funny guy named Kevin that secretly lived in Greg’s room with his roomie. Kevin attended all the dorm functions though. Greg I remember well because we loved the same music. We quoted musicians talking from “The Decline of Western Civilization” and went to my first X concert together. See his preppy checked shirt? I don’t think he was a frat boy, but he played one on television. In the backround I can see the floral shirt of my next door neighbor Ken. He and his roomie Steve ALSO had an additional roomie crashing with them all the time. Then there’s the Princess trying to hide herself from the picture. She was a really pretty girl, obviously had self esteem issues and didn’t like having her photograph taken.
Then there’s the brunette next to Greg. OMG can we pluck our eyebrows any thinner? Unfortunately this poor girl didn’t know about eyebrow waxing or she would have done much better than trying to take it into her own hands. The shoes… not topsiders this time, but from the white barely showing in the picture, she was wearing K-Swiss. K-Swiss was the rage in the early 80’s in Southern California. I don’t know about your neck of the woods, but those shoes were on every foot. K-Swiss, topsiders and Mia flats. Red Mia flats to go with those tapered jeans that girls of the 80’s wore while listening to Adam Ant play on KROQ. Look at this girl’s tan. Wow, she looks like she might have spent some time out in the sun that summer working on it. Probably used baby oil or SP2 if anything cause who knew about skin cancer in those days?
Wait…this girl has a camera. She liked photography even back in her college days…wait…could this photographer be me? Ummmm yeah….I admit it. How brave of me to not only admit what year I started college (do the math) but how brave of me to post such a horrific example of how scary the 80’s must have been and how I can hear my children howling with laughter at that eyebrow thin goofy face with the plaid preppy shorts and K-Swiss shoes. Hmmm. What’s the purpose of this pointless post? I guess I had a camera in my hand a lot in my young life and found a photo I thought would amuse you. At least it’s not my prom picture. That would really make one spit out their Diet Pepsi all over the keyboard.
Except he isn’t my baby anymore. He’s completely a little man who loves sports–unbelievably so much that I suspect he might take Gary Radnich’s job from KRON someday. This is a child that will wake up in the morning and turn on the television and when I come into the family room it isn’t Cartoon Network I see on the screen but ESPN and he’s intently watching to get the baseball scores. Listening to him talk stats with his father–OMG my child knows more about baseball than I do and it’s scary. So today is your birthday. You are seven years old and I secretly wish you never grow up because I don’t want to lose that little boy. In a way you have already changed from being a mommy’s boy to a daddy’s boy which can be fun when I want to do something and your dad takes your brother and you to a baseball game.
So seven years ago on the night of the 28th I went to Max’s Diner in San Ramon with a friend to have dinner. I had my favorite item which is a stuffed baked potato with a caesar salad. Ironically last night we took the whole family including your grandparents to Max’s Diner for dinner and I had the same meal. It didn’t even occur to me I was repeating history seven years later. On the morning of the 29th of September, 2001, I was getting out of bed at 5:30 am to relieve my poor bladder that you so kindly sat on at the end and stood up. Something was happening. My water broke. Not sure it was my water, I called my friend Barbara who I had dinner with the night before and asked her what I should do. She suggested taking a shower and seeing if it continued after. I did so and cleaned up and proceeded to saturate more clothing. Yeah, it was my water breaking not bad bladder control as I suspected. So, off to the hospital we went with your 6 year old brother who we woke up and dragged out of bed.
It took all day, but at 10:51 pm you finally made your appearance. You were a VBAC and I was happy to not have to have another C-section. There were a few moments when your heart rate dropped so low that about 20 people joined us in the delivery room waiting for what you were going to do. There was a threat of another C-section and I didn’t realize at the time that if you were going to be a C-section that you would be ripped out of me in 30 seconds versus the lengthy one I went through with your older brother. When one is pushing and concentrating on delivering a baby, one doesn’t understand why there are so many people in the room watching me. But, thanks to a vacuum your big Biasotti head finally came down and you were pulled out successfully. You were angry. You were screaming. I guess having fetal monitors attached to your head as well as a vacuum pulling out your head is enough to send anyone into a screaming frenzy. I remember the nurses bringing me a sandwich immediately to scarf down and I didn’t even care that it had mayonnaise on it. (Those of you that know me know how I feel about mayonnaise). You cried and cried. You wouldn’t sleep that night until I picked you up and held you in my arms all night. That is how we slept–you in my arms. It was the beginning of the next three years of you sleeping next to me and no other place. I couldn’t move anyway as the nurse slapped a huge bag of ice on my crotch which I didn’t understand why she did that until the next day when the epidural completely wore off. Anyhow…I love you. Happy birthday my darling. I wish I had decent newborn photos of you but I don’t so I thought I would post a few of my favorites. Your reddish brown hair that you were born with was so full and never fell out. Here is my favorite picture of you doing your A Flock of Seagulls hairstyle.
Love the Fred Flinstone toes. Sigh.
The next image was your One year old portrait. By this time you had about 2 haircuts and went blond. Who knew I had tow head recessive genes lingering in my body.
And here is my boy today. Loving his sports.
And my favorite one I just took a week ago
Before you get confused and say, “Um, Pam WHAT DAUGHTER?” let me explain. There was a good reason I was a mom to a daughter today. My niece Hailey is up for awhile from Mazatlan. Her mother is my husband’s sister and she lives there with her family and runs a successful coffee cafe business. My sis in law went back home last week and I promised Hailey a belated girls day out to celebrate her birthday from last month.
I don’t have any daughters as you know. I really don’t know how to raise a daughter day in and day out. I do know that I love to do the girly girl things and Hailey loves to do them too. She wanted to get her ears pierced. Mom gave me her full blessing so I realized this was going to be quite the special day. Where do you go to do this? The last time I had any holes put in my ear I was around nineteen I think. It was the 80’s and it was cool to have an extra earring in ONE ear but not both. Before that, I was 13 when I had my ears pierced for the first time. I recall my mother telling me it was my body and she couldn’t stop me from doing what I wanted to do with it. (Are you kidding me? If I used that logic on my 13 year old son right now he’d be coming home with body piercings and tatts and lord knows what else!) Anyway, I called my friend Kim to ask advice for where to take her. “Oh girl, you MUST take her to Libby Lu!!!” Supposedly it’s THE place for girls to get their ears pierced and soak in the ambiance of fun while having it done. My local mall has a Libby Lu, so off we went to accomplish the deed.
We walk into Libby Lu and I approach a teenage girl who most likely is the general district manager of the entire Northen California region because she sure had a high and mighty superiority thing going on when I approached her. I said “Hi, I would like to get my niece’s ears pierced.” BIG FAT HUGE MISTAKE!!!! She immediately said “Um, like ya know, sorry, but her parent is the only one that can authorize that” in her superior managerial authorative way and I said “Her parents are in Mexico. I am her legal guardian.” Okay, so I am not her LEGAL guardian, but I was responsible for her that very moment. The boss lady said “Well, you need papers and documents showing you as her legal guardian. Sorry. If you came back later and someone else took care of you that would be fine, but I KNOW you aren’t her mother. You might want to go to Claire’s and not mention to them you are her aunt.”
Stunned at her impersonal comments, I thought “You are not getting my business, $%$#%$#%, and removed Hailey from the chaos. There was a birthday party of some sort going on there and I could hear way too much noise. Just think, if we sat her down there and did it and all that distraction–no thanks.
We made it down to Claires and it wasn’t busy. A nice lady who worked there set it up. Here begins the most up and down 30 minutes of my career as an aunt. I couldn’t let her mother down and ruin her child’s ears. I had a mission and I was going to make sure it would be done correctly and painlessly.
Hailey is silly. She is very much like my sister-in-law. When she is near my thirteen year old son, it’s like watching my husband and his sister brawl and fight and knock heads. Kyle spent 3 weeks this summer in Mazatlan living at his cousin’s home and I heard many a story. Here is Hailey pre-piercing.
So, we had a big choice of earrings to choose from for Hailey. What to pick? She settled on the crystal sapphire daisy.
Here we show the lady cleaning her ears with the antiseptic wipe. At this point Hailey is rethinking her choice to get her ears pierced. I am beginning to sense she is not into it.
The lady marks her ears with the dots. Hailey claims they are stinging and pinching…uh oh, I am smelling some big drama coming up. I tell Hailey if she wants out then lets do it and go and not waste any time here. She says she WANTS to get her ears pierced. Okay….
Watch the expressions change here. Curiosity goes to amusement and then goes immediately to OUCH.
My poor kiddo. Her eyes are telling me she doesn’t like it.
We then spend the next 15 minutes battling over what to do. Hailey does not want to do the other ear. I am terrified her mother is going to kill me. She’s going to be a hipster kid–one hole in one ear. How different is that. I cajoled, coaxed and assured Hailey it was only a sting for a moment and that it really goes away fast. I reminded her that the lady had other customers and we needed to not play games. Finally I asked her what if I showed her how easy this was to do? Hailey said “Okay!!!!” What the? So, for the first time in 25 years, I sat in a chair and had a third hole added to my left ear. Ouch. She wasn’t kidding. Look at how red that puppy is.
After much relaxing and settling down after seeing brave Aunt Pammy get her ear pierced again, Hailey agreed to finish up the deed. I squatted down and told her to squeeze my hand as hard as she could. I proceeded to take photos with the other hand.
YEA!!! Mission accomplished. Instantly she was proud and happy. Oh of course, because lollipops were shoved in her direction and all of a sudden she forgot about the stinging pinch from a few moments earlier.
What’s that I see? A SMILE? Happy smile? A girl with newly pierced ears?
Then came the task of choosing from all the earrings. She picked about 9 pairs of earrings.
Looking good, Miss Hailey. Let’s go celebrate your success.
Yummmmmmm. I promised this if she finished up the deed and completed her ear piercing mission. It was accomplished so I had to deliver.
Yup, she’s pleased with herself now. And Aunt Pammy is a middle aged hipster with three earrings in her left ear. Such a rebel I am.
We had some yummy lunch and headed back to my house. Hailey told me it was the best day ever. That meant a lot to me. So this is what it is like to have a daughter.
By the way, the term free refers to my employment status not to my pricing. Little joke to start off Thursday.
Ok, so it’s obviously after July 29 and I mentioned my life was changing. It changed. Hopefully you have read my about me section here–the photographer in the body of an IT geekette yada yada yada. I might have to redo this now. I am a self-employed photographer full time. That means accepting more clients that I have had to turn away and it means devoting 150% to Pam Biasotti Photography instead of the 105% I was devoting my time to!
For the first time in 22 years (uh oh now you can figure out how old I really am) I am not working for a big corporate company answering to the pointy hair bosses or evil human resource directors as to how much more productivity they can squeeze out of me while cutting expenses more and more each year. (Disclaimer: My last manager was really none of those things and I love her to death and only stayed in the corporate hell hole for as long as I did because she rocked and was the BEST example of what a manager should be) For the first time in 22 years I won’t be walking into an environment where Lumbergh is asking me to work 24/7 on an outage that is really the application side’s fault or the business side’s fault. I won’t be toting hardware from one building to the next or re-imaging a desktop. I won’t be on my hands and knees disconnecting equipment. I won’t be sneezing repeatedly at all the chemical crap in the company carpet. You get the picture. The people who were on the same contractor account as me were awesome. I will miss them all terribly but I won’t miss the days of Dilbert like absurdities that plaque every corporation.
I have done it all. From college I worked in banking as a Customer Service Manager/Ops Quality Control person with an Assistant Vice President title (which is REALLY NO BIG DEAL cause everyone is an AVP in banking), managed call center employees (ackkk fancy word for babysitter of the disgruntled), worked as a Help Desk admin (How many times are you going to forget your password? Sheesh!), Data Security analyst, Network Engineer, IT Consultant, blah blah blah
I went through the motions, did my work as well as I could, gave it my best but something died in me after my youngest came along and I just couldn’t forge ahead the way I used to. I lost my spark. So, anyway, the outsourcing company I worked for outsourced me one last time on Tuesday the 29th. It was a good ride but it’s time for a change and for Pam Biasotti Photography to be a top children’s and dog portrait photographer. I have some big plans and changes coming my way and I look foward to sharing them with my past, present and future clients. Here’s to the next 22 years of doing what I #$%()$%$#’n LOVE!!!
Speaking of love, Riley’s got some new cousins.
