Monthly Archives: November 2013

Self-Compassion Saturday: Sherry Richert Belul

I first met Sherry Richert Belul in an online writing class, Telling True Stories with Laurie Wagner. In her profile picture, she was wearing a bright orange hat and feather boa, and the pieces that she wrote for class were sharp and sweet, beautiful and heartbreaking and true. After class was over, I kept bumping into her around the web, always loving our interactions. She is the brightest light, this one.

orangesherryAt some point, we became real friends. Sherry is the very best sort of friend, kind and generous, openhearted and full of joy. One of my favorite things she does for me is send me ninja poems where she records a short message using her phone, reads me a poem and says sweet things, and then she emails me the sound file. There is almost nothing better than a voice mail ninja poem love bomb from Sherry.

She even made it onto my vision board for 2013, in the most magical happy accident. I was selecting pictures, and cut out one from Taproot that I didn’t realize was her, was just a woman at a bright blue typewriter wearing a snazzy hat, an image illustrating an article about one of my favorite poets Maya Stein, a picture about which I said, “that hat looks suspiciously like one owned and worn by my good friend Sherry Richert Belul. If it’s not you, Sherry, please don’t tell me. The thought that it might be her/you, that she/you might represent the friendship and support of a collective of kindreds, of like-minded artists and warriors, of all those in my tribe, including all my kind and gentle readers, gives me so much joy.” She later commented and said “but it is me!” and I knew that I would somehow get to meet her in person this year, which I did — twice!

Sherry Richert Belul is an ordinary gal seeking poetry, color, spontaneity, and connection in everyday life. She and her company, Simply Celebrate, offer unique experiences through products, services, stories, adventures, and a community that helps people wake up to all the joy, spontaneity, color, and connection that is available in every moment. Her mission is to “Turn ordinary days into an extraordinary life!” and through her work, she “offers products and practices that help people celebrate ourselves, the people we love, and the shape of our lives — even when none of it looks the way we had imagined.” Her practice is celebrating the ordinary, unwanted, and unexpected. (And everything else that comes along). “Joy is a practice. What can you celebrate in this small moment of your extraordinary life?” I am so happy to share her perspective on self-compassion with you today.

1. What does self-compassion mean, what is it? How would you describe or define it?

Self-compassion is that way we whisper, “Oh honey” to ourselves while we wrap Grandma’s frayed purple quilt a little tighter around our scared body. It’s the way we quickly take it back when we mistakenly say “you idiot” to ourselves. It’s what inspires us to ask for a re-do and murmur, “That’s okay; anyone could have made the same mistake.” Self-compassion is having the spinach-pineapple-mango smoothie instead of the cinnamon roll ‘cuz we know what really nourishes. It’s saying no even when our best friend pleads, because we are over-booked and over-committed and over the idea of thinking we need to sacrifice ourselves for someone else. It’s saying yes to the lime green nail polish, to that crazy notion, to his kiss, to the giddy risk. Self-compassion is the way we look in the mirror and wish the wrinkles weren’t there, but change our focus to how damned sparkly our eyes are. Self-compassion is having the patience to listen, listen, listen to that all-knowing Self deep inside of us — because there are no rules, pat answers, should-be’s, or this-is-how-it-is’s; there is just this moment, this is what’s calling to me. There is this collection of me’s inside of me, and the desire to help all of them feel safe and warm and vital. Self-compassion is that feeling of “I’m here with you, no matter what.” It’s letting ourselves love the rose and gold fingerless gloves, the smell of cotton yoga blankets, the sound of our son’s silly songs, and our own plump toes. Self-compassion is drawing the circle around us bigger and bigger and bigger, to accept it all: all the glitter, all the dance, all the mud, and all the mess.

santa-cruz-bike2. How did you learn self-compassion? Did you have a teacher, a guide, a path, a resource, a book, a moment of clarity or specific experience?

I learned self-compassion from my cat Tiger, who used to try to jump to the high shelf and sometimes missed. She’d look at me, give a little sniff, wash her face, and walk away, tail held high. Next day, she’d try that jump again. Best I can tell, she didn’t beat up on herself for the fall. And she just kept attempting to go where her instinct told her to go.

I leaned self-compassion from my Grandmother, who had none. She’d shop for size 18 brown or gray shapeless dresses, all the while berating herself and her body. I always wished she’d buy herself something flowered, silky, or sexy.

I learned self-compassion from guy sitting outside his little house at college. While everyone else was boozing it up at frat parties, he had dragged a comfy armchair outside in the warm spring air and was reading “The Tao of Pooh.” He was all alone, but seemed to be about the happiest person I’d ever met.

I learned self-compassion from every honest soul I’ve ever met. From the seventy-year-old woman who wouldn’t let herself have even the smallest slice of cake for fear she’d get fat. From the sixth-grade girl who slumped her shoulders in sorrow. From the middle-aged professor in Indiana who set off in a brand new direction, despite his age and great fear. All the people who abandon themselves and don’t abandon themselves are my great teachers.

For the past 20 years I’ve been soaking up self-compassion tools and tricks from my spiritual teacher, Cheri Huber. Cheri starts with “There’s Nothing Wrong with You” and takes us on a journey to discovering absolutely everything that is right with us, which happens to be everything we are.

sherrysunflower3. How do you practice self-compassion, what does that experience look like for you?

Like many of you, some of the go-to practices I use include yoga, meditation, dance, hot baths, hot sex, and hot tea. But here are a few favorite practices that aren’t so obvious:

Recording and listening: This is a practice I learned from Cheri Huber. Basically, you know how Squawky Polly is always yammering in your head about what you could’ve done better or how you should be or “what’s da matter with you?” Well, recording/listening (R/L) is the antidote to that. R/L is turning on a recorder and saying all the things we wish our best friend/lover/mother would have said to us. It’s our own voice using the words we know we love offering us the compassion and wisdom that exists always, always, always within us when we quiet enough to hear it. Because it is such an awesome tool, I’m hoping Jill might let me share a link to Cheri’s book, which outlines this practice.

Sending notes to strangers: It sounds counter-intuitive, but one of the biggest and fastest ways to offer myself compassion is to write a note to a stranger. I’ve launched several small projects in which I’ve asked folks to tell me if there are people in their lives who are going through a hard time and need a little kindness. I swear to you, as soon as I pick up the pen to write to these folks, I’m writing to myself. Yep, it is that crazy cosmic thing that happens when I just feel utterly connected energetically. So I am writing to someone’s mom who is depressed and hopeless because she broke her hip again. And while I am writing to her, I am absorbing all that love and compassion into my own bones. I feel it. Can’t explain it, but I know it.

Wearing clothes that make me feel like the me who wants out. Some folks might thing that clothing is kinda silly and shallow. But for me, it is a straight shot to self-compassion. There’s a part of me who wants to be alive and expressive in a certain way. Offering her the chance to wear artful clothes is like opening a portal to possibility and joy. It’s like one of my all-time favorite poems by Kaylin Haught, full of “yes, yes, yes.” For you it may not be clothing, but maybe it is the art on your walls or the music you listen to or your flower garden. It’s that invitation.

Allowing poetry to sooth and thrill. Speaking of poems (“yes, yes, yes”), learning poems by heart and living with poetry in my life are like insta-compassion. Poetry links my crazy bouncing ball of a spirit to all the other humans out there who are experiencing bliss or grief or confusion or depression. One poem I’ve learned by heart to say to myself whenever I am lost and sad is this Hafiz poem.


4. What do you still need to learn, to know, to understand? What is missing from your practice of self-compassion, what do you still struggle with?

For me, the answer to this question is buried within the question itself! In my own life, a lack of self-compassion often comes in the form of looking for what’s missing or what’s wrong.  It slips in like this, “You need to earn more money. You need to lose a few pounds. You need to be more generous.” So at the risk of being confoundedly meta — I’d have to say that what I most need to learn and practice, moment by moment by moment is turning my attention away from any question of “what’s missing” and replace it with a focus on “what is.”  The recording and listening practice I mentioned above is one of the best ways to do this: simply underscoring all the things I’m grateful for about myself and all the things I love about my life can usher in profound feelings of compassion.

This journey of self-compassion is most definitely a lifelong adventure. I feel INCREDIBLY lucky to be able to explore this with you, Jill, and with all these other amazing women writers, teachers, and artists.

P.S. Here’s a little story about self-compassion and this piece of writing. Ole Squawky Polly mind wants to tell me that this isn’t good enough. That I missed the mark. It wants me to feel bad about something. But what I know is that I tried my best to be present and to write what wanted to be written. I showed up, let life live through me, and now it is done. Self-compassion is turning away from that squawk-squawk and simply seeing what the next moment holds, which is … lunch. No reviews, no regrets, no what-ifs. Ahhhh.

srbhwyI am so grateful to Sherry, for so so many things. Her simply being in the world, truly unedited Sherry, gives me such comfort, so much joy. To find out more about Sherry, to connect with her:

Next on Self-Compassion Saturday: Me. Yup, you heard that right — it’s my turn.

P.S. If you didn’t see the first post in this series, you might want to read Self-Compassion Saturday: The Beginning. Or make your way through all the posts tagged Self-Compassion Saturday.

Gratitude Friday

I know that yesterday, Thanksgiving in the U.S., is when most bloggers make these sort of posts, but I skipped it yesterday, because gratitude for me isn’t just one day a year, it’s a regular practice — although, as such, it was really really hard not to post yesterday.

1. Humans of New York, especially the new book, which I’ve been savoring. This morning, I was looking at one image that had the most amazing caption, “She had the most beautiful awkwardness.”

2. Food of the season, things like apple pie, sweet potatoes and roasted brussel sprouts. Although, I am still missing fresh tomatoes.

3. A clean house. We always say one of the best things about having people over is how clean the house gets in preparation. I mean, I even dusted.

4. Sleeping in. I’ve been doing a lot of that this week, and Sam has been joining me. He gets up at 4:30 like we normally do, eats breakfast, goes potty, and runs back to bed with me.

5. Support, connection, companionship, and guidance. Family, friends, my Intuitive Eating book group, the Open Heart Project — Susan Piver did a beautiful video and meditation instruction about gratitude yesterday, talked about how the best way to show gratitude is to live a really good life.

foot stool or dog bed, whatever

foot stool, dog bed, whatever

Bonus Joy: Sam. On our walk yesterday, he did the cutest thing. He was tracking squirrels and I accidentally dropped his leash. I decided to let him keep going, see how far he would get. He was so intent on following the scent trail that he didn’t realize I wasn’t holding him. We were on campus (CSU) so I trusted he wouldn’t get too far or in too much trouble. Even if he found an actual squirrel to chase, they go up a tree pretty quickly. So he went maybe 25 feet, and then stopped to check in with the humans, only to realize they were way behind him. I gave him the hands out shoulder shrug that means “what are you doing?” and he gave me the head down ears back sign for “sorry, my bad” and hurried back to us, waiting for me to pick up his leash once he got close enough.

sometimes he gets into Dexter's bed and sleeps, it breaks my heart a little every time

sometimes he gets into Dexter’s bed and sleeps, it breaks my heart a little every time

Any moment like that which reinforces that we can trust each other is so good. Underneath his reactivity, his struggle to control his impulses, his surges of adrenaline and anxiety, his sometimes too muchness, Sam is the sweetest and most gentle of dogs. As I was with Dexter when we lost Obi, I’m glad to have this brief moment of time with just him, so I can really see, know him before another dog with its own needs comes to distract me.

Wishcasting Wednesday

from Jamie's post

from Jamie’s post

Today, and for the last time, Jamie asks, “What do you wish for?” It’s taken me all morning to be able to show up here, attempt an answer. I’m sad, for all kinds of reasons, and this is another — Jamie is no longer going to host Wishcasting Wednesday on her site. She’ll offer the practice in other ways, but this version of it is ending. I didn’t expect that, not today, and even though change is inevitable and sometimes even for the best, I’m feeling tender about it.

This season is always rough. There’s not as much light, the days are shorter and colder, the sky is gray and dark more often, everything in nature going to sleep, there are no more flowers or fruits, green has turned to gray and brown. I don’t travel to visit with family (we go in the summer), so my tiny little family is alone for the holidays. I am reminded of everything, everyone we’ve lost, we miss. In the rush to prepare for various celebrations, crowds of people gather but in their hurry they can be so rude, so mean to each other, so unkind. I understand that feeling of overwhelm, of irritation. I’m feeling it myself. There’s so much left to do before tomorrow, before next week, before next month, and sometimes I just want to slow down, to stop, to hibernate, to rest, to forget. It’s a season of letting go and it’s hard.

Don’t get me wrong, I love twinkle lights and pie and warm sweaters and hot apple cider and Christmas music and snow as much as anyone, but there’s also something really sad and lonely about this time of year when it feels like everything is changing or so far away, over or gone.

I’ve wished with Jamie 68 times, and I’ve wished with other people who were also practicing. I am so grateful to Jamie for continuing to guide us, provide prompts and a place to share, for as long as she did. I wish along with her for open space where new ventures can grow and new adventures can begin.

Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. ~Gilda Radner

I wish to remember that as Ram Dass said, “we are all just walking each other home.”

I wish for us all to remember that we are fundamentally whole, basically good, inherently wise and compassionate, and wish that we can forgive ourselves and others when the way we act is not in accordance with that truth.

I wish for us to know that every being just wants to be happy and safe, loved, but that we get confused sometimes about how to make that happen.

I wish that we all begin to ask “where do I see suffering?” and do what we can to ease it, in ourselves and in the world.

I wish that we keep our hearts open, to joy and love and suffering, that we meet what arises in the moment, allow it to touch us, and when the time comes, let it go.

Something Good

arterylobby1. A Photo Essay: Castle Crags on Rowdy Kitten, a beautiful act of remembering.

2. patterns + running + 10 hours of tv from Jessica Swift, a good reminder about the creative process, about balancing your effort with ease.

3. Obesity epidemic? Try hunger crisis. from Nourishing the Soul, which ends with “if we can recognize what it is we are truly hungry for, we might just be able to satiate ourselves.” Word. If you want more on this, you can always look to Rachel Cole, the Hunger Goddess.

4. On determining your worth from Susan Piver.

5. The Habits Of Supremely Happy People on Huffington Post.

6. your daily rock : cut yourself some slack and your daily rock : we are in this together.

7. Blessedly Imperfect on Painted Path.

arteryexit8. Things to remember on Superhero Life.

9. And I Know It’s Hard on Museful Things by Ken Robert.

10. I’m a F*cking Unicorn. (Or 10 Things to Do When You Get Fired for the First Time.) from Elephant Journal. I feel like I should start reading #6 to myself every morning and see what happens.

11. What, You Don’t Need Me? from Jonathan Fields. We should all aspire to this, no matter what sort of work, parenting, living we do.

12. Stop Juicing: It’s not healthy, it’s not virtuous, and it makes you seem like a jerk on Slate.

13. Good stuff from Seth Godin, The sound of confidence and #BlackFriday = media trap.

14. Program helps low-income elderly and disabled keep their pets on Today@CSU. This seems like a win-win situation, students away from home missing their own dogs or unable to have their own dog while in school and people with dogs who need help caring for them.

15. Things for My Stuff by Jason Good, one of the funniest boy bloggers around.

16. Florida State University AcaBelles – Royals (opb. Lorde).

17. Ward Miles – First Year, a dad films premature son’s miraculous first year. Of course the subject matter pulls at your heart strings, but I’m really sharing this because it’s a beautifully made film.

18. Kid President’s 20 Things We Should Say More Often. Seriously people, Kid President is one of the best things e v e r.

19. Good stuff from Buzzfeed: 38 Best DIY Food Gifts, and 29 Adorably Tiny Versions Of Normal-Sized Things, and 23 Signs You’re A Morning Person, and What It’s Like Being A New TA.

20. Kelly McGonigal: How to make stress your friend, a really great TED Talk.

21. From Susannah Conway’s Something for the Weekend list: Shaved Brussel Sprout Slaw with Pink Grapefruit and a Maple Cider Vinaigrette (recipe), and Winter Recipes – salted caramel candies + kale chips + a sweet potato salad, and The Art of Getting Started Assignments, and Why Creative People Sometimes Make No Sense, and Our American Revolution.

22. The journey has to feel the way you want the destination to feel from Danielle LaPorte, in which she says,

You can’t contract your way to freedom.
You can’t punish your way to joy.
You can’t fight your way to inner peace.
The journey has to feel the way you want the destination to feel.

Oh, snap.

23. From Rowdy Kitten’s Happy Links list, My Uniform Life (in Five Easy Steps) and Blue Deer Forest Web Hosting and Blogging Services.

24. Everything I know about rest, I learned the hard way from Marianne Elliott.

25. The Necessary Art of Subtraction on Zen Habits.

26. From Positively Present Picks list, Essential Thanksgiving from The New York Times.

27. Good stuff from MindBodyGreen: 10 Signs You’ve Found Your Calling and Yum! Holiday Stuffins That Will Knock Your Socks Off (recipe).

Letterpress from Impress Studio

Letterpress from Impress Studio

28. Kat McNally is hosting Reverb13 (I have two prompts in the series) and has a new website.

29. The New Black Friday with Sherry Richert Belul.

30. The True Meaning of Non-Attachment and How It Sets You Free from Always Well Within.

31. “Boredom is Rage Spread Thin.” Paul Tillich from Jeff Oaks.

32. 64 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Grief.

Letterpress from Impress Studio

Letterpress from Impress Studio

33. Wisdom from Lao Tzu,

In pursuit of knowledge,
every day something is acquired.
In pursuit of wisdom,
every day something is dropped.

34. This Dog Can Stack Anything On His Head. You’ll Die Laughing At What His Owner Has Tried. A dog in a hoodie gets me every time.

35. The Art of Cleanup: Ursus Wehrli Playfully Deconstructs and Reorders the Chaos of Life on Brain Pickings.

36. 7 Reasons to Stop Proving Yourself to Everyone Else from Marc and Angel Hack Life.

P.S. Spirit Road, Take Us Home: 100 Animal Card Readings to Usher in the New Year! a great offering from Rachael Maddox that I forgot to tell you about!

Day of Rest


a letterpress I made

“Wow” has a reverberation – wowowowowow – and this pulse can soften us, like the electrical massage an acupuncturist directs to your spine or cramped muscle, which feels like a staple gun, but good. The movement of grace from hard to soft, distracted to awake, mean to gentle again, is mysterious but essential. As a tiny little control freak, I want to understand the power of Wow, so I can organize and control it, and up its rate and frequency. But I can’t. I can only feel it, and acknowledge that it is here once again. Wow. ~Anne Lamott, Help Thanks Wow: Three Essential Prayers

Self-Compassion Saturday: Marianne Elliott

Marianne Elliott is a writer, human rights advocate, and yoga teacher. Trained as a human rights lawyer, Marianne worked in New Zealand, East Timor, and the Gaza Strip prior to her time in Afghanistan, where she served in the United Nations mission (2005-2007). Her memoir Zen Under Fire, tells the story of her work in Afghanistan and the toll that work took on her and her relationships.

Marianne writes and teaches on creating, developing and sustaining real change in personal life, work and the world. She created the 30 Days of Yoga online courses to help people establish and maintain home yoga practices to support them to do their good work in the world. At the holidays – more than ever – we need practices to keep peace with ourselves and others. Marianne created her Zen Peacekeeper Guide to the Holidays to help you find a calm, compassionate path through the holiday season.

I first discovered Marianne Elliott by way of Susannah Conway, at least I think that’s how it happened. It’s hard to tell for sure, because however first contact happened, it quickly became clear that many of the other bloggers, teachers, artists and healers whose work I follow have a connection with her in common. However it happened, I immediately was drawn to how she blends activism and practice, manifesting gentleness as power, showing that soft is strong.

I was lucky enough to meet her at World Domination Summit, to take a yoga class with her. Her energy is simultaneously calming and energizing. She may not be the first person who suggested the idea but she’s the first person I really heard and understood when she talked about the yogic principle of balancing your effort with ease, a concept that has helped me make and sustain an important shift. Along with Anna Guest-Jelley and my local teachers, Marianne has inspired me to enter yoga teacher training. I am so happy to share her perspective on self-compassion with you, kind and gentle reader.

polaroidportrait31. What does self-compassion mean, what is it? How would you describe or define it?

It’s simply being kind to myself – meeting myself, whatever my emotional, physical or psychological state, with loving kindness. As simple, and difficult, as that!

2. How did you learn self-compassion? Did you have a teacher, a guide, a path, a resource, a book, a moment of clarity or specific experience?

I think the first teacher to really speak to me, through her writing, about self-compassion was Pema Chödrön. I was in Afghanistan at the time and suffering a lot. It took reading Pema’s books to see how much of my suffering was being caused by my own harsh judgements of myself, and the mean commentary I had running in my own head.

My meditation teacher Peter Fernando helped me learn self-compassion both through his own kindness – towards me, himself and everyone else I watched him interact with – and through meditation practice.

Another wonderful teacher for me has been Sharon Salzberg who teaches loving kindness meditation and practice. I’ve recently had the gift of getting to know Sharon as a friend as well as a teacher and she really does embody the kindness she teaches.

Today, thanks to teachers like Peter and Sharon, I practice metta (or loving kindness) meditation regularly as way to cultivate compassion and loving kindness towards myself and others. Here is a link to a free recording of a metta mediation which I’d love to share with anyone who is interested in trying the practice.

3. How do you practice self-compassion, what does that experience look like for you?

It’s a practice of softening towards myself, of connecting to my own heartfelt desire for my own well-being, and finding a source of gentle, sweet kindness towards myself – even when I’ve made a mistake. Metta meditation has helped me cultivate the capacity for this, but it still doesn’t always come easily.

Here’s an example: let’s say I’ve just ‘messed up’ in some way. Maybe I made a mistake that caused another person some stress or inconvenience or pain. There is a learned tendency in me to be harsh with myself, and often I’ll feel that rough edge of judgement rushing up on a hot wave of shame.

My metta practice can help me pause, in the moment, and connect to a sweeter, gentler place in myself. I can find compassion for myself and extend a hand of friendship to myself, just as I might to someone else. Initially I found that the kind voice in my head sounded a lot like my teacher, Peter, but these days it sounds more and more like me – just a kinder, gentler me than the version that used to rule to roost inside my head!

Girl in blue at school Lal4. What do you still need to learn, to know, to understand? What is missing from your practice of self-compassion, what do you still struggle with?

Some days the mean voices are faster, louder and more insistent than my inner sweetheart (as another teacher of mine, Natalie Goldberg, likes to call it). I’m not sure this is because anything is missing from my practice of self-compassion, except perhaps consistency! It’s an ongoing process – to strengthen the voice of the inner sweetheart, being a kind friend to myself in my messiest or darkest moments. But I feel confident in the transformative power of the metta practice.

marianneI am so grateful to Marianne, for these responses, but also for her presence in the world, awake and compassionate, alive with intention, and for her willingness to work towards easing suffering, in herself and in the world, to show up with an open heart. To find out more about Marianne, to connect with her:

Next on Self-Compassion Saturday: Sherry Richert Belul.

P.S. If you didn’t see the first post in this series, you might want to read Self-Compassion Saturday: The Beginning. Or make your way through all the posts tagged Self-Compassion Saturday.

Gratitude Friday

cityparksunrise031. The sky in Colorado. It does stuff like the above, all the time and for no special reason, sunrise and sunset and everything in between. This happened the other morning while we were walking Sam at City Park. Luckily Eric had his phone so we could get a picture of it. This is one of the reasons I get up early, leave for a walk while it’s still dark. This.

2. Red Table, my favorite cafe that was scheduled to close for good on December 22nd is not disappearing, just moving. Once a new lease is signed, they’ll announce where to, and there will be dancing in the streets, even if it’s just me, a flash mob of one.

redtableburrito3. Yoga Teacher Training at Om Ananda Yoga, (I’m official, all signed up and ready to go, we start in January) and a new yoga mat from Eric for my birthday. I am so excited to see how this is going to shift my practice, my relationship to my body, my life.

newyearseveyoga4. Birthday wishes. Lots of love there.

5. Guest post request from Rachel. She’s taking a blogging break, so “lined up a few great ‘substitute teachers’,” and asked me to be one of them. I am still working out what I’ll write about, but am so excited for the opportunity, so touched and grateful that she asked.

Bonus Joy: Sam. We have (mostly) decided that rather than get a new dog over Winter Break, we are waiting until Spring Break. *sigh* There are lots of really good reasons, but the most relevant is that Eric and I are still feeling the trauma of losing two dogs in a row to fatal cancers and need a bit more time to work with that before being responsible for another life, before inviting another beast in who will eventually break our hearts. The only issue I have with this decision is it isn’t necessarily the best one for Sam, because he needs another dog. He’s developing fears he never had before (the washing machine, which means the dryer too by default, the vegetable steamer, even the toaster because it sometimes sets off the smoke alarm) and will be much happier, calmer once he has another dude.

Mr. Sam, hiding in his bed because I was doing laundry

Mr. Sam, hiding in his bed because I was doing laundry