Determination

About ten years ago I applied to a private college in an effort to become an adult student.  My high school grades were not good, and I had no previous college credits to speak of; so they asked me to write an essay telling them why they should accept me as a student.

The theme of the essay I wrote was determination.  I told them that as an adult student I had experienced failure and had learned to pick myself up and try again.  I wrote that I was determined to make something of myself, and that I would not fail in my task.

It turns out that my words back then weren’t quite true.

Sure, I had known failure, just ask my mom about my high school report cards, she’ll tell you exactly how much failure I had experienced. I’d never failed at something I worked for though.  My failure was consistently due to lack of trying, and when I actually wanted something, I always achieved it.

Apperantly I still had a lesson to learn.

In high school, I was accused of being a lazy slacker.  When my college application was accepted, I went back to school and received high honors each semester I attended.  Then the story changed, and I was told I was a perfectionist and an over-achiever.  The truth is, I’m none of the above.

I’m just insecure, and believe it or not, I’m afraid of being a failure. 

No, I’m not afraid of failing, God knows I’ve done enough of it in my life.  It’s easy to fail when I don’t try though; it doesn’t bother me one bit.  I can tell myself that if I had wanted to, I would have done an excellent job, but I just didn’t care enough to exert myself. 

Instead, I’m afraid of being a failure.  So when I do care, I have to work my ass off to make sure I excel.  Because to try and fail would mean that I’m not good enough, not smart enough, and therefore have no real worth as a person.

So when I went to beauty school to become a nail tech, it was assumed that I would not only do well, but that I would once again exceed all expectations.  I wanted it after all, and I worked my ass off studying for quizzes and procedures the same way I studied for finals when I was pulling a 4.0 in college.

School had some really great ups, and some really horrible downs.  All of which I’ll eventually explain in another post, on another day.  For now, suffice it to say that I graduated with a respectable grade, and everyone assumed I would pass the state board exam with nary a hiccup.

Not so much.

The Wisconsin state board exam for manicurists is divided into two portions: a written exam, and a practical exam where you actually perform three services on a living model.  I passed the written exam with a high score, but failed the practical portion miserably.

Now, it’s been argued that my failure may not have been entirely my fault.  However, that feels like a dodge, and even if it were true, it’s not really pertinent to the story.  I tried my hardest, and I failed.  It was a crushing blow to my ego, and my sense of self worth.

I felt like I’d wasted John’s hard earned money, and didn’t want to waste more in another attempt I would probably fail.  I felt like such an idiot, and I was so embarrassed and disappointed in myself.

It took me over six months to find my determination, that can-do spirit I wrote about all those years ago, the one that would allow me to dust myself off and give it another go.  It was hard battling the demons I’d managed to previously contain, the ones whispering in my subconscious how worthless and stupid I was.  After all, manicures aren’t rocket science, how dumb do you have to be to tank the test?

Even when a friend passed the exam and helped me with my procedure, I still didn’t want to re-take.  It felt so much easier to give up and say it wasn’t worth the effort, then it would be to fail again.

Until one day, when I was talking to my son about a problem he was having at school, and I told him how important it was to keep trying.  “Failure isn’t a mark on your worth as a person,” I told him. “You only truly fail if you don’t even try to succeed.”

As soon as the words left my mouth I knew what a gigantic hypocrite I was.

So I re-took the test, because if nothing else ever comes out of my life, I at least want to be able to say I was a good example for my children. 

I was sure I’d failed again, but this time it wasn’t going to hold me back.  I had the paperwork prepped for the next test, waiting to be sent as soon as I got my failure notice.

It turns out I’m also a failure at predicting the future. 

When I received my exam results, I opened the envelope with a steady hand, and not a single hope in my heart.  It wasn’t until I saw the passing score that my hands started to shake, and I began to cry.  My kids thought I’d failed again, until I started jumping up and down.  It was over, I’d done it.  I managed to turn a failure into a success, even when I thought it was hopeless.

Now I want there to be some moral to the story here, but I don’t really have one.  Life sucks, get over it, maybe?  We can wallow in our own failures and insecurities, or we can get up and try a little harder.  Or, as in my case, we can do some of both; wallow for awhile, then get up and try again.

This experience hasn’t exorcised my personal demons.  No, I’m still a lazy, over-achieving, slacking, perfectionist.  Maybe next time it just won’t take me so long to quit acting like a baby.

I do know one thing for sure though, and it’s what I tell my kids all the time… 

Failure isn’t a grade on a piece of paper.  It’s the inability to learn from your mistakes, and the unwillingness to work to achieve your goals.

Success is just determination.

Hugs,

Jack Jack Bo Back…

It’s time for a fluff post, so I’m going to regale you with stories and pictures of my dumb dog.  Now when I say dumb, I mean it with the utmost love and respect, but how else can you describe a dog who sleeps like this:

and this:

this:

this:

and this:

And yes, he is sleeping in every single one of those pictures, even if his eyes are open.  You don’t know how many times I’ve checked his breathing to make sure he wasn’t dead…

After about six months of struggling with some medical problems, Jack is finally healthy, getting some energy (although he still lacks coordination), and is starting to do some of the things normal dogs do.  He still doesn’t bark, for which I’m pretty grateful, but the other day I almost fell over in shock when he jumped up on a visitor.  He’s never jumped on anyone before because a genetic back condition has prevented it.  So when I saw him do it I thought, “Oh wow, he feels good enough to jump!” and then immediately followed the thought with “Oh crap, I’m going to have to train him not to jump on people!”

Such is our life with Jack.  It’s mostly snuggles, love, and continuous training.  Now that he’s healthy enough for surgery, he’ll be getting neutered soon, and then as soon as he’s recovered he’ll start formal training to get his Canine Good Citizen’s Certificate.  After that, I’d like to start him in therapy training, but we’ll have to see how everything goes.

Now, despite my pretty vocal advocacy for Jack, and Pit Bulls in general, I still get asked a lot if I worry about having him in a house with a smallish child.  The truth is, I don’t worry about Jack hurting Jenna anymore than I would if we had any other breed of dog in the house.  I mostly worry that Jenna, with her craziness, might hurt or threaten Jack in some way that would make him lash out and bite her.

If an accident ever were to happen though, it wouldn’t be his fault; it would be mine, for not catching the cues he gives us to let us know he’s not comfortable with his surroundings, that he’s scared or hurt, and that he’s reaching his limits.  Dogs almost always tell us when they’re getting ready to snap, the problems happen when the humans in the room don’t understand the language.

(Note: We don’t normally allow too much Jack hugging because dogs, in general, are not fans of having their heads held immobile.  So when you hug, you’re putting your face right next to a bunch of sharp teeth attached to a potentially stressed out dog.)

Pit Bulls used to be ‘Nanny Dogs’ though, trusted with looking after the smallest members of the house.  It’s really not a surprise that Jack is so good with our own pygmy house ape.  Babysitting is in his blood.

I often tell people who ask about our scary pit bull, all about Jenna’s undiagnosed stomach problem.  She’s seen a few doctors for it, has had a different diagnosis with each one, and so far nothing has helped.  Every few months though, Jenna gets sick for no reason, and for two to three days suffers with severe stomach cramps and vomiting.  We often have no warning when these episodes are coming on, except for the stomach cramps which start up about ten minutes before the vomiting does. 

Jack knows though, and will start following her around before the cramps even hit.  He becomes a bramble that’s impossibly stuck to her, and no amount of coaxing will convince him to leave her alone.

Then, when it hits, and she gets really sick, too sick to leave the couch without help, he curls up next to her and stays until she’s better.  He gets up only to eat and go potty, and even those activities decrease in frequency.

During these times when she’s miserable, and understandably grouchy, she can lay on him…

Kick him…

and he will not budge, whine, or make any protest whatsoever.  He stays, until his pygmy house ape is feeling better.

And then he stays a little longer just to be sure.

The best indicator that she’s on the road to recovery, is when Jack goes back to his regularly scheduled activities.

So no, I don’t really worry much at all. 

Hugs,

All Lacquered Up

When people find out I’m a nail tech, the first question they usually ask me is “What’s your favorite nail polish?”  It’s a good question since there are scads of different brands on the market to choose from, and the quality between brands can vary greatly. 

As a nail tech, polish is my mainstay.  Almost all of my clients walk out the door with polish of some kind on their nails.  It’s the one product that I must have in quantity, and the one thing I can’t live without. 

So when I look for a polish to put on my shelf for client use, I look for four different traits; Application, Wearability, Affordability, and Selection.

1. Application – Can the polish be applied in 2 thin coats with complete coverage and without streaks?  Does the brush hold enough polish so that one dip in the bottle will cover the nail?  Does the brush fan out so that the polish can be properly applied to the nail in three strokes?

2. Wearability – When applied properly, with  good quality base and top coats, how long before the polish begins to chip when worn on the natural nail?

3. Affordability – Will I have to sell my children into slavery to be able to afford a good selection of polish colors?

4. Selection – Does the brand have a lot of different colors with a decent variety of finishes (cream, glitter, shimmer, frost, etc.)?

Until recently I hadn’t found a brand that scored well in all four categories.  I had a few favorites, but all fell flat in at least one area.  So today I’ll share my top picks with you, what I love and hate about each of them, and I’ll tell you which one I think will be pushing all of the other brands off my shelf.

First off, Sally Hansen doesn’t even make my list.  Every time I go through my favorites, I get asked “But isn’t Sally Hansen ok too?”  The short answer is no, it’s not.  Don’t get me wrong, it serves a purpose.  If you need a cheap polish to match a dress that you only wear once or twice a year, and you don’t care if it chips before the party’s over, then run to Walgreens and pick up a bottle of Sally.  There are a ton of colors available, but you may need a few coats for complete color coverage, and it will likely be chipped before the  end of the night. 

Instead, if you want something inexpensive with a little more wearability, try Finger Paints.  You can pick them up at Sally’s Beauty Supply.  They cost a little more than Sally Hansen, but are still quite affordable.  They also have a great color selection, apply nicely, and will wear for a day or two longer than cheaper polishes.  I like this brand, and have a few of them on my shelf.  It’s not a professional quality polish, but it’s a great alternative if you don’t want to have to run to a salon to pick up a bottle.

Working my way up, the next on my list is China Glaze.  This brand scores high on the affordability scale at about $5 a bottle.  It is a professional brand, albeit a low quality one, and you can purchase it at many salons as well as Sally Beauty.  They have a great color selection and seasonal releases to expand the palette of choices.  However, China Glaze scores low on my list for application and wearability.  The brushes are not as easy to work with as I’d like, and some colors aren’t pigmented enough to provide complete, streak-free coverage in two coats.  You’ll also probably start seeing chips appear around two days after your manicure.

Ranking in next is Color Club.  When I first started using Color Club polishes, I hated them.  However, it turns out that the bottles I was using were old, gloopy, and generally disgusting.  A newer bottle has great application and coverage.  They’re also extremely affordable, and are typically a little cheaper to buy than China Glaze.  The downside to Color Club is that you have to purchase it in a salon, and it can be difficult to find one that carries the brand.  It also doesn’t score very high on the wearability meter, and you can expect your polish to start chipping a day or two after application.

OPI is the first polish to score in as one of my favorite brands of polish.  While OPI polishes are more expensive than the previous brands listed, they’re worth every penny.  They’re highly pigmented and therefore provide excellent coverage.  They have a ton of colors to choose from, as well as frequent releases of limited edition colors that are usually trendy and fabulous.  OPI wears well on the natural nail, and you can typically get five days to a week out of your polish before you’ll need to repaint.  The one thing I hate about this brand however, is the one thing most people love about it; so feel free to take my opinion with a grain of salt…  I hate the wide brush that comes standard in the full size bottles of OPI.  I know, I know, I’m weird… But you see, my problem is this: I do a lot of manicures on kids and smaller adults.  I find that it’s nearly impossible to paint a tiny pinkie nail without making a mess using an OPI brush, and don’t even ask me about painting pinkie toes for a pedicure with it (it makes me swear every time).  It’s so bad, it’s almost a deal breaker for me, but you might love the brush, so by all means, give it a try and find out!

Until very recently, CND ranked in as my all time favorite.  It scores low on the affordability scale, topping out between $9 – $11 a bottle, but for the standard colors that you wear all of the time, it’s well worth the price.  CND polishes are so highly pigmented that most can be applied in one coat, with complete coverage and no streaking.  That means it dries quicker, and you’ll also get more applications out of a bottle; so in the long run the price becomes comparable to the cheaper polishes.  It also wears like iron, and unless you’re really hard on your nails, should last about a week before it starts to chip off.  Now, a few years ago CND made an innovation in nail polishes, and introduced a line called Color and Effects.  What it is, is a line of about fifty creamy polish colors, and a line of about fifteen top coats that add sparkle, glitter, or frost effects to the colors.  The color is applied first and then the effects, and the many combinations between the two give you an almost unlimited range of looks for your nails.  Really cool, right?   The only gripe I have with CND is that they need more colors!!!!  Most of the colors they offer fall into the range of reds and peaches, and less than ten fall into a non-standard color range (yellows, greens, blues, etc.).  That’s fine for a more sedate crowd, but again, I do nails on a lot of kids, and they all want weird colors in bright shades.  If CND expanded their line, I’d marry them and devote myself to their polish babies, but until they offer a range of colors that satisfies all of my clients, I have to look elsewhere to fill that gap.

Now we’ve come to my top pick, and it’s a brand that I didn’t even know existed until a couple of months ago.  The more familiar I become with it though, the more I’m falling in love…

Zoya is my all around top polish pick.  This brand, so far, has gotten top marks in all of my fields.  At $7 a bottle, the price falls solidly in the middle of those listed above.  The quality, however, compares to OPI and CND, which makes the price tag even more impressive.  I’ve heard complaints that the brush is too small, and it is a little on the small side.  Yet, the quality of the brush is so high that I am able to cover even a large thumbnail with one bottle dip, and the bristles spread out nicely when touched to the nail, making a three stroke application a snap even with the smaller size.  The polish itself is highly pigmented, and covers beautifully with two thin coats, leaving no streaks or blotches behind.  They also have an amazing selection of colors and finishes, with a great color spoon program that lets you try before you buy if you’re not sure that a color is right for you.

That leaves wearability as the only category that is yet undecided for Zoya and me, but that’s merely because I haven’t had adequate time to really judge how it performs under different circumstances.  So far my results have been good though, and I’m hopeful that when used on a properly prepared natural nail, it will wear at least as well as OPI.  All in all, I’m ready to start clearing out my other polishes (except for a few favorites) to make room for more Zoya colors.

Zoya is available online (their web store has terrific customer service and shipping times), or at select salons.  Give it a try, if you don’t like the polish you’re welcome to send it to me!

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer!

Hugs,

No Regrets

This weekend, I was with my adult (oh God I’m so OLD!) daughter, and we happened to find ourselves in an establishment that performs piercings and tattoos.  We were looking at the flash art they have displayed on the walls, laughing and having fun, and I joked that I should have a butterfly tattooed on my face.

It was a really cute little butterfly!

I did not, in fact, leave the shop with new ink on my face.  After a lot of teasing from my daughter and the staff at the shop though, I did leave with a little cartoon puppy on the inside of my arm.  One that looks remarkably similar to my Jack.

It’s not a DaVinci, but it’s tiny, cute, and even though it’s just a piece of flash I picked out of a book, it means something to me.

The experience though, got me thinking…

I’m no stranger to tattoos.  I now have four, and my husband has four as well.  Over the years I’ve been subjected to the criticisms of many people when they learn I have permanent ink on my body.  I say learn because almost all of my ink is hidden, and so I usually have to inform people that I have it.  I’ve had family, friends, and even people I’ve just met who somehow believe they have a right to offer me lifestyle advice, tell me that someday I’ll regret it.

“You’ll regret it when you’re old, and your skin begins to wrinkle and sag.”

“You’ll regret using flash, and not getting ink that’s personal to you.”

“You’ll regret making a spur of the moment decision that’s going to stick with you FOREVER!”

“You’ll regret it when the ink blurs and fades and you’re stuck with a big blob of nothing on your body.”

This is the theme of most of the comments I receive.  That someday I’m going to be filled with remorse and regret.  I’ll moan and lament that I ever spent the twenty dollars to have a puppy the size of a postage stamp tattooed onto my body.

I don’t buy it though, and as usual, I’m going to tell you why.

Each and every one of my tattoos has meaning to me, whether they were flash art picked off a wall, or original artwork made just for me.  Some of them have special meaning in the symbolism, but for each and every one, there’s meaning in the memory.

I got my first tattoo almost fifteen years ago.  I was visiting John in New York, and we drove to a shop in New Jersey so I could get inked.  I had been wanting a rose on my ankle for almost as long as I could remember, and I decided that while I was in New York, embarking on a new stage of my life, it was the perfect time to have it done.

The design has meaning, I picked a grey rose, and added a cross element, symbolizing myself and John, the man who helped me break out of a life that was killing me quicker than cyanide in my coffee.  So every time I see it now, I think of us, and of the war I fought to save myself; to start again.

More so than the symbolism though, looking at the ink brings back a vivid memory of being happy for the first time in a long time, the drive to New Jersey, and the artist at the shop who made me laugh until I cried. 

Honestly, the tattoo can sag and wrinkle, fade and blur until it’s an unrecognizable blob, but the feelings and memories it evokes, never will.  I’ve been told it’s ugly, and perhaps to some it is, but I see only beauty when I look at it.  It marks the start of a beautiful me, and I have no regrets.

My second tattoo is a back piece that I jokingly refer to as my tramp stamp.  I got it on my thirtieth birthday, before tramp stamps were cool.  It’s up higher than most of the stamps you see on girls, and peeks out over my waistband when I bend over and my shirt rides up.

It’s a bit of flash, with no meaning at all.  Just a decoration on my skin.  Every time I see it in the mirror though, another vivid memory of a day spent with the man I love comes to mind.  He took me out the morning of my birthday, telling me he had a surprise for me.  We drove to Wauwatosa, or Waukesha, or some other ‘burb of Milwaukee and ended up at a tattoo parlor.  He hadn’t made an appointment, so the wait took about six hours. We spent the time sitting on a bench outside the store, just enjoying each other’s company, talking to strangers, and basking in the rare warmth of a spring day in Wisconsin.

It has no deep meaning.  As I grow older and wider, it’s stretched a bit with my girth, and I have no regrets.

My third tattoo is a zuni bear on my thigh.  It’s an original piece of artwork, made just for me, and has symbolism so personal and private that I won’t discuss it here.  Again, it includes sharp memories of the day, the people, and the emotions of the event.  It lost a bit of color in the healing process, is a little wonky where it covers some stretch marks, and no one ever sees it but John and I.  Still, it’s beautiful, and vibrant, and so totally me that I have no regrets.

Last but not least is my new cartoon puppy.  It’s the only ink on my body that is easily visible.  I think my willingness to put it there shows that I’m moving on to yet another stage in my life.  One where I do things because it makes me happy, and one where I don’t really care what other people may think about it.  I’m past the point of having to worry about what potential employers may think.  If they won’t hire me because of a tattoo that’s no bigger than a nickel, it’s their loss, not mine.

Of course it symbolizes my first dog.  My vicious pit bull who I’ve come to love like a child.  A child who will never leave me to go to college, or get married.  My silly dog who gets bullied nightly by the cat, who would do just about anything for a butt scratch, and who taught me to not judge a dog by its muscled shoulders and big blocky head, even if everyone else does. 

More than that though, I'll always have the memory of a day spent with my beautiful daughter, who’s now a grown woman and becoming more my friend than my child.  I’ll remember the laughing and the teasing, and I know that every time she sees it, she’ll remember the same.

It can blur and fade, become an unrecognizable spot of color on my skin, but the feelings and memories it evokes will always stay the same.

I have no regrets.

Hugs,

He's on to Me

Jack has been on meds for three days now for a yeast infection.  He gets a pill, an eye ointment, and ear drops two times a day.

The pills are not a problem, in fact they're the only part of the medication routine he likes, because they're administered wrapped in a treat.  The real problem is the eye ointment.

First he needs to have his eyes flushed with a saline solution because they're still goopy from the infection, and then he gets a half inch line of ointment applied into his eye (or as close as I can get it).  Sounds somewhat simple, right?  Jack, however, feels this is torture of the worst kind.  He’s invoked his rights as per the Geneva Convention, and is protesting this inhumane behavior on my part.  Now, as soon as he sees me coming with the bottles of saline and meds in hand, he will run and hide, then run and hide again.  This process repeats its self until I’m worn out from chasing him and fall over into an exhausted coma.

After having to practically wrestle him to the ground the first day, I decided there had to be a better way.  So.. 

Day two I decided to take the indirect approach.  I waited for him to take his nap, and then ever so gently washed out his eyes and put in the ointment.  It went very well.  It was less stress for the both of us, he didn't struggle, and went right back to sleep when I was done.  Yay!  I'd found a method that worked, right?  Right?!?

We're now on day three, and Jack is on to me.  I fed him his breakfast this morning, after which he goes outside to potty, and then usually settles in for a leisurely three hour nap on his chair.  After he came in from outside, I left him alone for awhile so he could settle on into his nap, and after about an hour went to give him the ointment.

Wait, Jack's not on his chair...  Where is he?

After a short search I found him curled up in his crate, his nose pressed into the far corner where I couldn't possibly reach him. 

I'm a patient person though, I knew I could wait him out, and that eventually he'd turn around and put his face toward the crate opening.  Every time I got up to get coffee I’d wander past his crate to see if he’d turned around yet, and eventually he did. 

However, I'm not as stealthy as I'd like to be.  He heard me coming, opened one eye, and immediately put his nose up into the air pointing towards the ceiling of the crate; putting his eyes once again out of my reach.

I looked at his posture, nose in the air, eyes closed tightly, and thought, “My dog is snubbing me!!”

He sat like that for awhile, unmoving while I tried everything in my bag of tricks to get him to look at me.

“Jack, kisses?” Kissy, kissy noises…  Nothing

“Wanna treat, poopy dog?”  Shake, shake of the treat box…  Nope.

“Come on, give me a kiss.”  More kissy noises…  still nada.

I scowled at him, but as his eyes were still closed in anticipation of me trying to stick crap in them, it was less than effective.  I’m sure if he’d seen how much distress he was causing me, he’d have melted into a little puddle at my feet and begged me to medicate him, but as it was, we were still at an impasse.

Then I remembered the new doggie sausage I’d purchased just yesterday, in anticipation of having to change his diet as per his new vets recommendation.  I popped into the kitchen and cut a slice up into treat sized chunks, then went back to take up my post at the door of his crate.

Jack had not moved.  He was still sitting nose up, eyes tightly closed, pretending he’d been adopted by some other, nicer, lady.

I pulled a chunk of sausage out of my pocket and waved it in front of his nose.  He took a sniff.  Another wave, an eye popped open and regarded me disdainfully.  One more flourish and I had him.  He put his face down to gobble the new treat, and grudgingly let me torture him while I stuffed his face.

Score another one for the evil lady.  I only wonder what he has in store for me tomorrow, now that he’s on to me.

Hugs,

An Ounce of Prevention

I just witnessed probably the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen in my life.  It left me upset, furious, and I can’t decide whether I want to cry or throw up, so I decided to blog instead.

I’ve always been a cat person.  I never owned a dog, and didn’t really care to own one until a big, dumb lump of stinky puppy fell into my lap.  Being a cat person, I never imagined I could love a dog as much as I love Jack, or that I would become a vocal advocate for a breed that a mere eighteen months ago I thought was vicious…

It is what it is though.  Jack cuddled his way into our family, and I love and protect him like one of the kids.

I’ve had a lot of people question my sanity for having a Pittie as a first time dog owner.  I knew right from the start that I had my work cut out for me though.  I did research on the breed, and different training methods.  I told John right off the bat that if we were going to have a Pit Bull, he was going to be one of the best behaved Pits on the planet.  I did NOT want my family to be the focus of any news stories.

So right away we started training, and while Jack is not THE best behaved Pittie on the planet, he does ok for himself.  He’s technically still a puppy though, and we see progress with his self control every day.  He’s a good dog, and a very friendly one, but still, we take a lot of steps to ensure that he and everyone he comes into contact with, stays safe.  He always wears a collar; if he’s outside, he’s on a leash; if he’s in the car, he’s buckled in with his doggie seat belt harness.

Since I take these, and other, simple precautions, I am pretty confident that Jack can be easily controlled if the need arises, and that’s probably why I’m so upset by what I saw this afternoon.  Because it could have been so easily prevented…

 

As I pulled in to pick up my youngest daughter, I got stuck in the usual after school traffic jam.  A flash of white caught my eye as I was impatiently drumming my fingernails on the steering wheel, and I looked over to find two fawn and white Pit Bulls trying to tear each other apart. 

At least five adults were ineffectually trying to separate them, too afraid to do more than wave their arms in the general direction of the dogs, and many, many more children were watching in horror as blood sprayed from the dog’s wounds.

Neither dog had a leash on, and only one of the two had a collar, so there was no way to grab and hold the dogs without putting oneself into the reach of those snapping jaws.  One of the owners pulled futilely on his dog’s tail, while the other waved her jacket at the dogs and screamed incoherently about her dog being attacked.

It appeared that the young lady had left her dog in her car while she ran up to the school to get her child. Her dog was unrestrained, in a vehicle with the windows down, with no collar.  He more than likely jumped out the window when he saw the other dog running in an unfenced yard without a leash or chain.  Both dogs were just accidents waiting to happen.

I threw my van into park and with a quick reach into the back seat to grab Jack’s short lead, I was ready to jump into the fray.  One of the first things I learned with Jack is how to easily break his hold on anything (no matter how much he doesn’t want to let it go), and after watching the dogs I could see that they really didn’t want to harm any of the people around them.  The man pulling on his dog’s tail was unscathed even though it was clear he was causing the dog pain, and both dogs would break off the fight anytime a human stepped near.  The main problem was there was no way to hold them apart because of the lack of leashes and collar, so they quickly escaped any grasp and engaged once again.

Silly as it may seem to those of you reading this, I was not afraid of those dogs, even though they were doing their best to tear each other apart.  I was not afraid they would harm the people around them.  I was, however, distraught that they were being allowed to kill each other while children watched, because of their owners incompetence.

In the end, my intervention wasn’t needed.  Another man stepped in and grabbed the collarless dog in a bear hug, pulling him far back from the dog being restrained by his tail.  Once out of confrontational range, the dog immediately calmed down enough for his owner to step in and put him back in her vehicle.

Both dogs were injured pretty terribly, one had most of his ear torn off, and the other had a nasty gash on his throat. The police were called, and I’m saddened to think that one or both of those dogs may meet a sad end after today’s events.  The big question is; Why!?! 

Why is it so hard to put a collar on a dog?  Why can’t it be leashed when leaving the house? Why not restrain them in the car?  Why?  Not only are these three things common sense, but in most areas they are also the law!  Dogs are required by law to wear collars that display their license and rabies vaccinations.  I don’t know of a single community that doesn’t have a leash law, and most places are beginning to realize that an unrestrained dog in a vehicle becomes a high speed projectile in an accident, and are therefore starting to mandate restraints on traveling animals.

So why did this have to happen?  The simple answer is; it didn’t.  It was short sighted owners, thinking it couldn’t happen to them, or that their dog would never do something so terrible, that caused the problem.  It happens though, on a daily basis, and it’s not just a Pit Bull problem.  If you have a dog, follow the law!  Whether it’s a Daschund or a Doberman, keep them safe, keep everyone safe!

And for the love of Pete, if you have a big dog, especially one with a terrier’s tendency to be animal aggressive, know what to do in that situation!  If Jack ever got off his leash and got into a scuffle with another dog, I would immediately know what to do to break them up and defuse the situation.  Would you?  If you’re a dog owner, and the answer is no, then it’s really time you learned.  The life of a furry family member may depend on it.

 

I came home and hugged Jack.  I cried into his fur a little bit over the injustice of it all, and how now he’ll have even more people fear him because of reckless acts from a few humans.  I cried over two beautiful dogs who will be forever scarred, and maybe euthanized because the people who were supposed to protect them, let them down.  And then I promised I would never let it happen to him. 

I really wish all dog owners out there were willing to do the same.

to Salon or Not to Salon

There’s a new nail polish product on the market that’s getting a lot of media buzz.  It’s made by CND, and it’s called Shellac.  The reason everyone is talking about it?  Because it’s simply amazing, that’s why.

I was lucky enough to be trained on how to apply Shellac by CND education ambassador, Holly Schippers, while I was in school.  I also had the opportunity to give it a test run on my own nails, and I can tell you from my own personal experience that this polish will NOT chip or scratch AT ALL, when applied properly.

Imagine that, a nail polish that will stay on your nails until you take it off, or it grows out.  Pretty cool, huh?

Now, I’ve been reading quite a bit of the press on Shellac, and it seems to have sparked a bit of a debate on professional services verses at home services.  The reason for the discord is because Shellac is only available in salons.  You can’t buy it at your local Sally Beauty or Wal-Mart and paint your own nails with it.

A lot of people are saying “Hey, I paint my own nails all of the time, what makes this any different?  Why do I have to spend extra money at a salon just to get my nails painted when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself at home?”

The answer to that question lies in the product chemistry of Shellac.  It’s not simply a polish, if it was it would act like every other polish and chip off your natural nails within forty-eight hours.  It is, in fact, a hybrid Ultra Violet (UV) gel product.  It may look, and almost act, like a nail polish, but in reality it’s closer to a nail enhancement.  To apply it properly, your nail plate needs to be prepped for the product, and the product itself has to be cured correctly in a UV lamp made specifically for Shellac.  If not applied correctly, at best it will chip, scratch, or pop right off your nail; at worst, improper application can cause severe skin reactions and long term chemical sensitivity to the wearer.

So that’s the long and short of it; the reason it’s only available as a salon service, and the reason why even if you could do it at home, you probably wouldn’t want to.

Unfortunately, there are many nail professionals who come up a little blank when confronted with these questions, and instead of remaining blissfully silent, or contacting the company to learn the proper answers, they’re throwing out all kinds of misinformation and lame excuses.  For example, I recently read a discourse between a nail tech and a potential Shellac customer where the tech answered that question by stating “It’s a salon service because CND said so, and who are we to argue!”

Ugh…  Really?  *eye roll*  Tell me, when you were a rebellious teen, and you wanted to go to the dance with Spike, who drove a smokin’ hot motorcycle, did the argument “Because I said so!” hold any weight with you when your Mom or Dad told you no way in hell?  No?  You just snuck out of the house and went with Spike anyway?  So then what do you think the chances are that the potential Shellac customer mentioned above is now seeing if she can score some on ebay?  Pretty darn good, would be my guess.

I’ve also heard nail professionals trying to explain that the start-up cost of Shellac is likely too high for the average consumer.  It’s a better argument, but still not the right one.  To properly apply Shellac, you need CND’s Cuticle Away, which is only available to salon professionals, manicure tools, a CND UV lamp, base and top coats, and last but not least, the Shellac.  All of those things together cost about $225.  You could probably get Shellac’d in a salon for a year or more for that amount of money.

However, most people are going to think, “Hey, I can get cuticle remover at Sally’s for $3, and they have a UV lamp there for $40.  Manicure tools?  Who needs manicure tools, I’ll just use these old popsicle sticks to push back my cuticles.  That brings the total cost of Shellac to under $100!”

The problem there is that you’re not going to be applying it properly.  Sally’s cuticle remover won’t prep the nail plate properly, and the Shellac will end up chipping or popping off.  The UV lamp you  purchase may cure the top layer of Shellac, but it won’t cure the underlying layers, leading to the nasty skin reactions and product sensitivity I mentioned earlier.  It may not happen the first time you Shellac yourself, but in the long run you’re going to cause more harm than good.

In my opinion, getting a skin rash on my fingers every time someone comes near me with a nail product isn’t  worth it to save $10-$20 at the salon every few weeks.

Plus the fact that while you can paint your own nails, it can be a pain in the rear, and it’s soooo much nicer to be pampered and have someone else do it for you once in awhile.  Get a manicure while you’re there, those arm massages are da bomb, and will have you melting in your chair!

Lastly, just as a side rant, one lady in on one of these debates was acting a little snarky, and said that she had a real college degree (in law), not just a stupid manicurists certificate.  Since she was clearly more intelligent than those of us who only went to school for a few months, she was perfectly qualified to Shellac her own nails. 

To her I’d just like to say that intelligence has nothing to do with education, or qualification.  If you’re sooo much more intelligent than those of us who only hold a certificate, then you should have no problem cutting your own hair, doing the maintenance and repair on your vehicles, building and repairing your own house, plumbing, electrical systems, air conditioning and heating…  I could go on and on.  There are plenty of fields of work where people only hold a certificate, that doesn’t mean anyone not educated in the field can do it themselves.  I would be an idiot if I represented myself at a murder trial, just like you’d be one if you tried to re-wire your house without any training as an electrician.  Just because you can screw in a light bulb, it doesn’t mean you can put in a new circuit breaker, and just because you can paint your own nails, it doesn’t mean you know what I know, or can do what I do.

Don’t take my word for it though.  Go ahead and give it a try.  When your fingers are covered with a blistering rash you can give me a call.  Of course, I’ll just chuckle and refer you to a physician, because I know where my field of expertise lies.

Hugs,