The Bunnies

I am a hasher.  A member of the Hash House Harriers.  The Hash House Harriers are a unique group of open minded, fun people who like to drink beer, exercise and sing dirty songs (in a nut shell).  We are not swingers, we do not have orgies, we are not a cult, or any of the other things that may be said by closed minded people who have only heard and never attended a hash event.  We are of every religion and social class.  We know no political correctness...we make fun of everyone.  We go by fake names to keep everyone absolutely equal.  The Hash House Harriers have been around almost 100 years, they were started by British ex patriots, they tend to group around military bases, and they hold organized social events world wide.  There are probably 300,000 hashers in the world and the number is growing.  But this blog isn't about hashing or hashers.  If you want to know about hashing, google it. 

This blog is about women.  Hashing used to be an all men's sport.  In some places it still is.  There are also all women's hashes now.  But anywhere you put men and women and alcohol all together there is almost sure to be drama.  There are about 10 (at least) hashes in Florida, and there is often drama.  Usually caused by the women (hey, I call it like I see it).  My hash group used to be the same way.  When you put women around men, they act differently than if there are no men around.  It is what it is. 

A few years ago, my friend Susan and I were sitting around chatting.  She wanted to make a women's hash group in this area.  I have to say, honestly, I wasn't terribly excited about the idea, but I thought I was worth a try.  And wow, just wow, was I wrong.  We started out as an all women's hash.  Some of the men were terribly threatened by this, although I don't really know why (it wasn't the husbands, but the single men who had a problem, they seemed to think we were going to talk about them...ha, the arrogance!).  We decided to call ourselves Bunnies, for lack of a better name, but it has nothing to do with the more famous playboy bunnies...just a play on the game of hashing which is lead by a Hare. 

After awhile, we decided that we didn't necessarily need to be a hash group, although we do hash occasionally (ps in case you didn't look it up, a hash is a 3-5 mile run with beer at the end).  We decided to just make time for our women friends at least once a month to do something...anything was ok.  No real criteria except it had to be accessible for all (cost, location, etc).  Happy Hours, bike rides, long walks, picnics, ladies nights, movie nights, dinners, shows, plays, ghost tours...we are always on the look out for the next bunny-type event.  Not everyone can make it every time.  Our group is growing and changing.  We have dealt with death, cancer, divorce, marriage, pets and parenting problems.  But so many good things have come from it. 

First, now our hash group has little drama.  Our women know each other and trust each other.  There is no feeling of threat when one of us is talking to an other's man.  Not only that, but the poor men can't even go out to another hash group because we are a force.  If some strange woman makes even a friendly gesture towards a bunny's man, a bunny will be right there making sure all it is ok (not sure this is good, but it has its perks).  Second, we know each other.  We know personal problems, we know health issues, we know who needs what, we know that Miss Standoffish is just shy and Miss Angry has been hurt and needs us and Miss Dry Humor is actually hilarious.  We know mom's and families...through stories if not in person.  We know each other well enough to assume that even if something looks off, we trust that our friend is acting in what she thinks is our best interest.  With love and consideration. 



the first bunny event Mish was at



These women were at my side 24/7 while my daughter was dying.  The did everything that needed doing from bringing food, picking people up at the airport, knowing who was arriving when and staying at what hotel, tracking down Michaela's best friend in Panama, counselling her friends when they were hurting, knowing who needed hugs and who couldn't stand one more hug, making phone calls, being prepared to speak and run errands at the funeral...the list is endless.  Even my friend Susan, who has since moved away, sent a beautiful poem.  When I couldn't think beyond yes or no, they knew how to give me choices instead of decisions.  They took care of my mom and my daughter.  They cried with me and laughed with me.  They kept records and told stories.  They were a force protecting my family from the world...from the volunteer who wanted to hassle us at the door to the ICU to the guard at the door of the hospital....I can't even imagine what all happened that I have no idea about and will never know.



Yep, the hash names are something...but don't assume you know anything

 We don't have to have a lot in common, although over time we find we do.  But we have indoor girls and outdoor girls, single women and married women, grandmothers and college girls.  We have teachers, nurses, military women, office workers, computer programmers, entrepreuers, and housewives.  We have sports fans, music fans, shoe fans, shoppers, cookers, drinkers, abstainers, vegitarians, meatitarians, dog people, cat people....it doesn't matter, all of that, really, now does it?  We don't always get together as a whole group...sometimes it is just two or three doing something in common.  Sometimes there is couples.  Sometimes there is just quiet time.  Maybe that is what makes it so good...everyone brings something to the mix.   But when we do get together, like we did today, it is momentous.  We weren't all there.  We missed those who couldn't be there.  And I can't even quantify what makes a day like today so very therapeutic.  We had a gathering point...but we all did all different things, disc golf, kayak, walks, bike rides, sitting in the sun....and then would come back together.  It was the perfect, no pressure, all love day.  Ok...I'm getting overly mushy.



Can't forget Bunny Pole dancing lessons!

 I never thought I had much use for women.  I had girlfriends in high school.  There was a lot of drama.  I joined the Air Force and realized with men I could be myself and speak my mind and didn't have to worry about hurting any one's feelings.  And I gave up on women pretty much across the board.  I would have a friend or two.  But I have never been as happy in my life as I have been since I found the Hash House Harriers and then, through that connection, my bunnies. 

a very busy Angel

Last week was a wild week.  Michaela has a very busy girl.  If you are one of those people who don't believe that our souls are connected or that our deceased loved ones can have any influence on our earthly existance; this would probably be a good place to stop reading. 

My life has been a veritable mountain range of ups and downs and crazy jagged edges the past 6 weeks or so.  No soothing plateaus from which to enjoy the view, no lush green valleys to rest in the sun.  Most of this had nothing to do with Michaela at all; except if you are unfortunate enough to have lost a child to death, you will understand that absolutely EVERYTHING is colored by that loss.  The joy of playing with my grandchildren is dimmed by thoughts of what will never be, the death of a friend's brother is highlighted by memories of similarities and differences, poor behavior in other young people underscores the unfairness of my loss, the excitement of a new experience is grayed by thoughts of how much she may have enjoyed it.  It makes everything a bit exhausting; even the good things.

March started out with Michaela's birthday.  As it turned out, I was unable to do anything this year to commemorate the day.  Not that I didn't want to, but there simply wasn't time.  My job was out of control busy.  The next three days I was home sick.  Some combination of cold virus and simple exhaustion that I couldn't seem to shake.  During those days we got some disappointing news; just another in a series of things that make life too hard.  And then on March 4th we had to put our dog, Bear, down.  I already blogged about that, so my readers know how important he was in my life. 

On the day we put Bear down, just as my husband was leaving for the vet's office, Fed Ex arrived with a package for me.  It was a gorgeous oil painting of Michaela done by a friend.  I knew she was painting it, but had no idea when or how it might arrive.  Interesting timing to recieve such a happy thing at such an unhappy moment...perhaps a little reminder that Bear would be with her now and everything would be ok.

By the weekend, life was looking up, but I was feeling a lack of communication with Michaela.  It isn't as though she speaks to me or anything that obvious, but usually, as I pass through my days, there are little reminders--things that make me think of her and smile.  On Monday, March 8th, I posted this on Michaela's wall:  I keep thinking I should hear from you...but I got the painting at just the right time, so maybe I am expecting too much or maybe I am looking too hard. I just miss you...you used to be so loud it is hard to listen for subtle.

From that point, the messages suddenly weren't very subtle at all.  Bill and I have been talking about moving into a better neighborhood for quite some time, but other than some random MLS searches when we had a few minutes, we hadn't done anything about it.  No house had caught our eye enough to make us want to schedule a viewing.  But the very next day, Bill ran across one we hadn't seen before.  It was brick and in a neighborhood with some space; in fact, a neighborhood that Michaela always loved.  Michaela hated cookie cutter neighborhoods where all of the houses are in one or two basic styles and sitting right on top of each other.  It had every single thing we were looking for, plus some things that we loved but hadn't been on our requirements list.  Things that just 'look like us'.  But the surprise came when we went to view the house.  In every room and scattered throughout the yard, mixed in with other knick knacks and decorations were hundreds of angels.  Every room and every hidden corner held an angel of some kind or another!!!!  It wasn't a very subtle message from our own angel telling us what we should do.  ...so we did.  We move in next month.  We found out while we were there that the man selling is 82 years old and lost his wife of 63 years last July, just one year after Michaela left us.  I wonder if they've met? 

Friday night I had a dream about Michaela.  I believe it was just a dream.  A few other 'dreams' have felt a different way, but dreams about her are rare and to be treasured.  In fact, I had been dreaming all night long apparently, Bill said I had been mumbling in my sleep a lot and I woke up very, very sad.  But I went back to sleep and I dreamed that we were going to Disney World.  Michaela was with us and so were Bill's mom and dad (both recently deceased).  There was a problem with our tickets though and we were trying to straighten everything out.  During this part of the dream Michaela was 21 and dressed in summer outfit I picture her in frequently.  But then the ticket issue got worked out and I turned to tell her and she was suddenly 10 years old.  I was so very happy then, and I hugged her and held her and begged her to just stay 10.  Knowing, even in the dream, that she would never drive a car if she just stayed 10.  Then I woke up; but happier than before. 

The final part of this story has to do with the band America.  Around Christmas a friend had given me a mixed CD that he had made to comfort me after Michaela had died, but I didn't actually get a chance to listen to it until late January or early February.  The first song on the CD was Sister Golden Hair by America.  Soon after that, my son posted a link to the same song on her FB page and just a day or two after that I saw that America was coming to play an outdoor concert in Cocoa Beach.  I feel like when the universe is trying to tell us something, repeated references to the same thing popping up like that are one of the ways it happens.  So I bought tickets to the concert.

Saturday afternoon was a beautiful day.  We took our lawn lounge chairs out to the place the concert was to be and set them up.  When we sat back in our chairs we found ourselves looking straight up at the largest rainbow colored kite I had ever seen.  In fact, I had just spoken to the man who made the kite in the food line, but didn't really give it any thought until I sat down, even though he had pointed it out to me.  It was anchored and stayed right there; directly over us until the sun went down and the concert started. 

As the band started playing the sun set and the temperature started dropping.  The music was very good (all of you who think people get 'too old' to perform are completely wrong).  As I sat there a slow feeling of calm and love surrounded me.  It felt like a hug and it was everywhere around me.  I couldn't stop smiling (not that I wanted to).  It slowly surged, getting stronger and stronger, until I knew.  She was there.  Right there with me.  All around me.  Holding me and bringing me peace.  Letting me know she was there, even though I couldn't see her.  I told Bill she was there.  He smiled for me and said hold on to it; remember what it feels like; don't forget. 

She stayed with me throughout the concert.  The last song of their regular set was Sister Golden Hair.  And then she was gone.  She didn't fade away slowly in the way that I had become aware of her; she was simply there and then she was gone.  I didn't feel sadness when she left, just a lingering happiness that she had been there.  And a solid knowledge that she will be back again.

Just an ordinary dog

I had a dog.  His name was Little Bear.  We had to put him down last week.  It broke my heart.  

Bear wasn't really anything special.  He was just an ordinary mutt.  Part Chow, part some kind of shepard, all love.  He wasn't very smart, as dogs go.  I think that may be the best kind of dog to have.  He wasn't worried about entertaining himself or finding a job (so he wasn't destructive); he knew his job.  His sole purpose in life seemed to be to figure out what it was his people wanted and do it the best he could. 

When he was a puppy he was a rolly polly little thing and could sit up naturally because his behind was the biggest part of him.  He learned really quickly that his people thought that was adorable and would give him food for it.  He learned basic obedience too, but no real tricks.  He figured his trick was to sit up and look cute and we fell for it every time. 

He didn't like getting yelled at much.  He house broke himself in 4 days.  In 12 years after that I could count his accidents on one hand and they were my fault, not his.  Once he had a doggy door, he even learned that if he needed to throw up, that was best done outside too.  He didn't get yelled at; he just could see that whoever was cleaning it up wasn't happy about it.  He never ate anything that wasn't his to eat...I left a bunch of food on a coffee table all day one time and he didn't touch it.  He didn't raid the garbage or chew things (not even his toys really, he coddled them).  He never needed much discipline, his desire to please was so great that strong discipline was counter productive. 

He had bad habits too.  He barked whenever anyone came in the house.  He had different barks...stranger barks were short and widely spaced and could be contained fairly quickly.  But friends and family had to be greated with great shouts of joy.  It wasn't his fault.  He couldn't help it.  He was simply too excited to understand why we didn't want to be greeted that way.  His joy at seeing us was undeniable.


He knew people too and he never forgot what was ok with who.  He knew who could be jumped on and who didn't like kissies on the face; he knew who would feed him and who would play with him and who might take him for a walk or a car ride on any given occasion.  And he knew the vet.  But he kept his affection to his family and friends; he was a trained therapy dog, but it really didn't work.  He behaved, but he didn't emote affection to the patients; he wasn't loving to them, so we stopped.

He gave hugs and affection, but it changed over time.  When he was young he would push his whole body against me as hard as he could when I asked for hugs.  As he got older and wiser, he would look me straight in the eye and then lower his head so I could put my forehead against his and talk to him when I was sad.  On the last day of his life he sat between my legs and pushed his whole body against me like he hadn't done in years.

Bear smiled.  A big full toothed, black tongued grin that couldn't be mistaken for anything else but a smile.  And his tail only wagged in one direction (to the right), but it wagged anytime someone talked to him.  He carried it up over his back like a chow. 

He loved his picture taken; I don't know why, probably because it seemed to make the photographer happy and got him more attention.  He would hold himself however he thought you wanted him; tall and proud. 

I took him with me to Korea and he had to stay in quarantine for a few weeks.  He never made a fuss about kennels until he got older and it was more upsetting for him.  But we never had a problem finding somebody he could stay with.  He was a good houseguest.

He liked the snow in Korea.  The Koreans didn't like him much.  He was too big and their culture doesn't keep big dogs as pets.  Once when we were coming home from our walk, the downstairs neighbor had left their door open and he charged into thier house on accident.  It really scared them and I felt bad, but they learned to 'like' him after awhile.

He never really got on the furniture without an invitation, even though he wasn't prohibited from it.  He never slept in the bed, but right beside it. 

Up until the last few months, he moved around the house, repositioning himself according to a doggy code of rightness.  He never really over ate and never got fat no matter how much food and how little exercise we gave him.  Sometimes he would eat too quickly and that would make him throw up.  As he got older, human food didn't really agree with him either.

His favorite time of day the last few years has been the time when Bill or Brandon would be working out and he could lay in the front driveway and watch everyone walking by.  He loved car rides, but he rode like a person.  He never put his head out the window and if the trip was long he laid down and went to sleep.  He rode wherever he was supposed to...back seat, cargo area, passenger seat and never tried to bother the driver.  He liked riding in my little convertible once he got used to it (and realized that he got a lot of attention that way).

The only thing worse than going boating, according to Bear, was being left home.  He would ride in any boat, but he didn't like it much.  Oddly though, he loved water.  He would find any water and spin around in it, lay in it, roll in it.  He loved the ocean too, once he got used to the sound.

He loved to play, but he played by his own rules. He didn't demolish his toys, but made them last for years.  He only ate rawhide bones if there was another dog that might take it from him.  His favorite game was to chase around a laser pointer or flashlight.  He didn't care about squirrels or frogs or lizards.  He would threaten a cat, but didn't care to take a real chase, I guess he had lived with too many of them. 

He was scared of Thunderstorms and car washes.  He was scared of sparks from fire too, but he was also brave.  He would try to put out the fire with his mouth to protect his people.  Once he grabbed a bottle rocket and scared us to death.  We got it away from him in time, but we never let him around fireworks again.

He was beautiful as a young dog, but allergies and age ruined his coat. 

He was still beautiful to me.

Happy Birthday Michaela



 In honor of Michaela's birthday, I present you a bunch of random blips and blurbs from her writing:

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? my tendency to worry.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? my mom.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST? not really. I'm just doing it to avoid homework.
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? cerulean.
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? the flower guy! Thanks mom!

Who thinks that these [standardized] tests mean anything? Who is it who decided that what circles I color in decide my intelligence and how well I will learn or work in an environment of choice?  Not to toot my own horn, but I have an amazing GPA, relatively impressive resume and awesome writing and communication skills. I'm pretty sure that anyone reading this is thinking that those qualities will suffice for the environments I will choose to learn and work in. I'm not going to be a doctor. I'm not going to be an engineer. I'm not going to be an accountant. Never. Ever. The thought of it makes me laugh. Now, who decided that I have to take a test with math in it to be accepted to communication, written and oral founded programs and work places? It makes no sense. I'm speaking specifically about being accepted to Graduate Schools and Assistantships at those schools. ... Standardized tests are, for lack of a better word, stupid. ... It's sad because I would be an asset to any school that accepted me.

After class I came home and made an Extra Cheese Tombstone Pizza. I ate the entire thing and it was delicious. While I was eating I was reading a new book that my mom sent in the mail. So far it is also delicious. I have savored every word. After my pizza I drifted into a nap, that, in its own was also...you guessed it delicious. I woke up at 7:31pm, thinking it was 7:31 a.m. and proceeded to freak out about being late to class. I got a grip and realized it was still today, and consequently went back to sleep.

(on check in for college, year 2) This year there is no rush of excitement in the eyes of the newcomers. It is pouring rain. Has been for several days. It's cramping everyone's style. And they've set it up so that check in is going on for about a week, as opposed to a weekend, like last year. So, when people arrive they are not bombarded by the excitement of others like before. It is, instead, a strange flow, slow and clotting depending on the time of day and the weather.
People are cranky. Kellum is falling to shambles. Not really. She's holding up really well for a 50 year old building (50 this year! It's her birthday!!!). People have puddles; some from the rain, some from their tears. People can't handle life.
It'll all be okay. It's water. But people are nervous and scared and they're expecting mommy and daddy's lifestyle their first year of college, unaware that they won't have that lifestyle again until they're out of college, and beyond that even; until they are settled in their careers. ---This generation has become far too used to instant gratification.

(on leaving Italy) I am not at all ready to leave.
I am prepared.  Mentally.  Physically.  Electronically.
I hope that the happiness I've found here will translate to Tallahassee.
I fear how things will be if it doesn't translate. You know? Being super happy and then not being happy SUCKS! BUT....
Pain reminds us that we're still alive. (some verbal preparation...just in case.)
:-D

(on life lessons learned in Italy) I've finally learned that there is no such thing as a "best" friend. All of your friends are the "best" in some way. One is the best listener. One is the most fun. One is the most interesting. One is the most reliable. Some of them will have more than one best quality, but overall there is nobody with the "best" everything. So, why call anyone a "best" friend. Eventually, they will all let you down in some way, so don't make the let down worse by labeling them with a title they are incapable of keeping honorable.

Some things are just out of my control and I have to learn to go with the flow. Once something is done, you can't undo it, you have to accept it, make the decisions you need to make once something is done, and move on. Eventually, it will all work out. When I was on the way to Spain with Sage, I brought my big bottles of lidocaine aloe and tanning oil hoping that Ryanair wouldn't search my carry on. They did. And they took my stuff away. I was FURIOUS! Even though it was my fault because I risked it. I got so mad and Sage could see it. But since I got here I've been training myself to take control of my reactions and emotions. I sat for a second, pissed, and then just said to myself, "Michaela, get over it." so I did. Sage laughed at me because the decision I made was so obvious on the outside even though I said nothing out loud.


I've become more compassionate here. I feel for people more. I still don't deal with bullshit or whining, but I can understand people's reasons for things now. I've become really close with some people on this trip and they've let me in to many parts of their lives and just to have that is refreshing. Everyone is fighting a battle that nobody else can see. That's the number one thing I've learned here.

I used to have this superiority complex: I'm better than other people because I don't drink or do drugs. Okay, sure, whatever. But really, good people drink too. They are not all losers going nowhere with their lives, they are just people having fun. Eye opener. And, my attitude didn't change to justify my actions. My actions changed in response to my change in attitude. Big difference.

I've learned I am capable of getting along with many different kinds of people. Someone pointed it out to me the other day, and I can't remember who it was, but it made me happy to hear that someone could see a quality in me that I couldn't even see in myself. :-)

I've grown as a person. And I'm excited to see how that changes my life back home. I've learned some patience and compassion. I've learned to let loose. I've learned that people are for the most part---good. I've learned not to put to much stake in people, but not to brush them off either because everyone has something to offer, and you have something to offer them too.


EVERY time I realize this, I breathe easier: No matter how different people are, or seem to be. We're all the same.

1. The phone rings. Who do you want it to be? :: My phone doesn't ring. I don't have one here. But if it did I would WANT it to be my mommy.

14. Use Three words to describe yourself? :: intense, real, old

17. Do you know how to shoot a gun? :: yes. Very well, I might add.

18. If your house was on fire, what would be the first thing you grabbed? :: Journal, my art porfolio, camera. I would die in the house trying to choose!

19. How often do you read books? :: almost daily

30. Where was the furthest place you travelled today? :: Well, I'm in Florence, that's far from home. Here, The Study center is about 30 minutes from my apartment, on foot....so the study center is the farthest place I've travelled today...

32. Do you like mustard? :: yes. after years of hating it. I've come to love it.

33. Do you prefer to sleep or eat? :: eat. uh oh.

34. Do you look like your mom or dad? :: My father.

35. How long does it take you in the shower? :: It isn't a matter of how long it takes me, because if we look at it that way it doesn't take long at all....HOWEVER...I never take showers that fast because showering is the love of my life....and in Italy you never run out of hot water. And that's no joke, it's phenomenal!

36. Can you do a split? :: HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAA

66. Do you need a boyfriend/girlfriend to be happy? :: no. But i think at this point it would make it easier.

67. If you could have any job (assuming you have the skills) what would it be? :: Photographer

68. Are you easy to get along with? :: I used to think so, and now I think not so much. I kinda like it that way.

69. What is your favorite time of day? :: Any time I'm free to do whatever I want

I love really hard. Because, if you're going to love someone how can you not love hard? How can you not give them everything they want? How can you not do your best to fulfill every need? How can you not tell them you love them every day? How can you not see them every chance possible? How can you not talk to them every day? How can you not think about them every minute? How can you not want to show them how you feel all the time? How? How can you not love hard?

I've been mulling over things in my head and I've come to a few conclusions about life in general.

1. It’s always the right time for the right person.  And it’s never the right time for the wrong person. So everything always depends on the person and never really on the time. People just tend to confuse the two, or use the latter so they don't have to tell someone that they're not it. (Logical right?)

2. No matter how exciting something is, it will never be as exciting if you're doing it alone. It's always better to share things with someone else. A friend, a lover, a random person. (shitty and awesome at the same time)

3. Sometimes there are no second chances, and sometimes there are 17. And generally, the times you don't get a second chance...the person was actually worth something. And you know this because they made a choice and stuck to it. (who wants a wishy washy loser?)

4. While being politically incorrect will offend many, being that way will guarantee you make the right friends for you. Because who wants to fake a personality to make friends? (I say this from experience, I faked it before and my friends were lame....NOT ANYMORE!)

5. Life doesn't stop for anyone. It doesn't slow down either. So get up and run alongside.