I've once more come to the point where I just wish this election would be done. I am a conscientious citizen, but the hype and irrelevance is just killing me. I fear we are once more left voting for who can do the least damage as opposed to who can do the most good. There is nothing in either candidate that makes me say 'Wow, this man can make a difference and bring good change to our nation.' I don't even want to listen to the rhetoric and debate. It's like comparing 2 life threatening diseases: one with an 87% mortality rate and the other with a 89% mortality rate. How about health and wellness instead?
I fear there is nothing credible about the promises of either candidate. I'm waiting for one of them to promise adequate rain in season, crops in abundance, and an absence of damaging storms. What? You say that they can't do that? Really? Oh, for that you must petition God. But for the economy that has spiraled out of control, for health and well-being, for jobs and houses, we don't need God, we need a 'great leader.'
I would also like a 'great leader,' but I think I interpret that much differently than the majority of people about me at election time. A great leader must give and ask for sacrifice at times. A great leader understands the true issues that face our country and not just the surface problems and hype that can get them into office. A great leader understands the true effect of their actions and looks to the long and short of caring about the country, not the political party and where it wants to go in 4 more years. That's stupid. It really is.
I have seriously wondered if Christian people would just begin to band together, honor God, and pray about the real issues, it might not have a much greater effect on our country than any election. If we set a specific time and some specific goals for prayer and honestly gave ourself to that with a pure heart, could we fix the economy, etc.? But then if we did, if we could, in four years the incumbent would be waving banners and claiming great success for his brilliant service, skill, and ideology.
Yes, I will vote. But, unless something changes, -nothing will change. I will vote for the lesser of two evils.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
I Never Even Knew His Name
This was written several years ago. I changed it from 3rd person to 1st person because I liked it better. If you find a missed change, let me know please. It bears resemblance to a real life event, but names and critical information was changed for personal reasons. And besides, I liked the story. IF you read all the way through, I'd like your comments.
I never even knew his name.
He went by initials. I asked, but
he wouldn’t ever answer. He told me his
name was so weird that I would never guess in a million years, so, I, of
course, had to try.
I grew up with Edward.
No.
One of my best friends had a brother named Earl.
No.
Maybe it was Elijah. That’s a good Bible name.
No.
It became an ongoing game which eventually turned
affectionate. But he wouldn't even give
hints.
I dreamed of him one night: a frenzied, intense dream full
of stress and desire. I liked him the
first time I met him; he treated me nice, like a colleague and not like
brainless commodity. Honor was not
something I was accustomed to. Most of
the guys I worked around couldn't see past my figure. “Sexy!”
It would have been okay if it hadn't sounded so much like “Hooker.”
On occasion, we had to attend various events together away
from our respective towns. I learned to
like him a lot. His sense of humor never
left our conversation stale. Our
relationship was relaxed, casual, and yet often I would think of my dream and
wonder.
I met his wife once. It
was at a company Christmas party which I attended with my husband and Dianna
was there with the two boys. Dianna
mostly sat on the side with the children while the party went on without
them. Feeling sorry for her while glad I
had found a sitter for my own children, I approached the young woman – about my
age – and struck up a conversation. We didn’t talk about anything particular or
personal and I finally wandered off to visit with others. Shortly after that,
he and his wife bid an early ‘good evening’ to the host and departed with their
two sons. It was the only time we ever
met.
Evert?
No.
Elwin?
Did you make that up?
Somewhere during a training seminar at a lovely mountain
retreat, something happened. We were
playing table tennis. I thought I was
pretty good, yet he won every game. I
was determined to learn his tricks.
“No matter how good you get, you’ll never be able to beat
me,” he insisted. I watched his every
movement. We played until we were late
for the next session.
“I left my materials in my room,” I informed him. “You go on and I’ll get my stuff and be there
in a few. Take good notes.”
“I will. I'll save a
seat for you.”
“Okay.”
Emmet?
No!
We spent the rest of our free time playing tennis. When the three days were over, my game was
even better but I still had not beaten him.
That night, lying in my own bed in familiar if not pleasant
surroundings, I dreamed of him again as I had before. I was standing tall and straight in an
entrance way to a large ball room dressed in a floor length red dress,
waiting. Suddenly he approached, took my
hand and led me to the dance floor. The
room was empty and we danced alone until I woke. As the day called me from sleep, I heard
someone call his name, but I couldn't make it out and then the dream was gone.
He was away on a business trip for 2 weeks after the
seminar. This was not uncommon, but it
seemed different this time. I thought often
of how he threw his arm about my shoulder so naturally during the meetings, how
he walked me to my building each evening, always the gentleman. He even tipped his hat with a smile and a
soft “good night”.
Evan?
Nope.
I was in the break room when he came in. “Hi, gorgeous,” he said simply. “I see you’ve kept the place in order while
I've been out.”
I rolled my eyes and plopped my tray down on the table
beside him.
Emmanuel?
NO!
In the months ahead, our relationship became
comfortable. We liked each other. It was enough. He had a wife and kids; I had a husband and
kids. We had it under control. Yet, I looked for his smile each day and he
gave it freely. He playfully touched my
hand or arm. I got used to the feeling
of his touch. It wasn’t a bad thing. We knew our limits. We liked each other.
No.
Edwin?
No.
The company we worked for participated in a holiday
benefit. We were stationed
together. It was hard work, yet the day
flew by simply because we were together.
When we finished, our superior congratulated us.
“Give yourselves a pat on the back. We made more than any other organization for
a single event this year.”
His exuberant hug was hard and long, rocking me back and
forth. Then he held me at arms length
and said, “We did good, you and me.”
It wasn't until I got in the car to go home that I felt a
twinge of guilt for enjoying it so much.
That night the dream returned.
But this time the dance was energetic and exhausting. Each time his arms would encircle me, the
dance move would break him away to leave me excited and yet empty.
My marriage relationship had been a roller-coaster of affairs
and repentance on the part of my husband, yet I always felt a certain guilt at
wanting to be with my friend. We worked
together; we had to be with each other. I
reasoned with myself that I had done nothing to betray my husband or family.
The company brainstorming retreat was a week long stay at a
nice resort in a remote area. Frequently
spouses came along, for it was a lovely setting. But once more my husband couldn't get
off. I would need to take my youngest
with me. She was very excited at going
with mama and so we set off. After
finding our quarters, I dropped my daughter off at child care and looked up his
cabin number.
He was on the porch when I got there.
“Hey, Errol.”
“Noooo!”
“Dianna's not here.
She didn't want to bring the kids.”
It was a matter of fact statement with a twinge of bitterness.
“I've got Jen. Rod
had a business trip, sort of a last minute thing.”
“I have stuff to put together,” he said flatly. “See you at supper?”
NO.
“Save me a spot?”
My game had been coming along nicely and I hoped to show him
my ‘stuff’. Jen was enjoying herself
between the proactive childcare, the swimming pool and the tennis court. He would take my hand easily as we
walked. His arm went casually, yet
securely about my shoulder frequently. I
told myself emphatically, "we aren't doing anything wrong. He's a demonstrative, affectionate person."
After an evening brainstorming session in front of a warm
fire, we stepped out into the cool air and he wrapped his arm about my shoulder
more securely, taking the stance of a protector against the wind. The head of the company was standing outside
and nodded toward us with a stern and reserved smile. We walked over and picked up Jen and then
made our way toward the cabins. As he
turned to go, he brushed my forehead with his lips.
Eldon?
No.
The cool nights and warm days went by in a blaze of
meetings, brainstorming sessions and instructional classes. In between were games of table tennis, long
walks about the finely kept grounds, or opportunities to play with Jen. The fun and sharing became so comfortable and
felt so right between us. The name game
reached a ridiculous level as I hunted for more and more names, further from
the norm. Then it happened.
We had just finished a very long, but productive session and
the keynote speaker finished with “Tell someone you love them, tonight.” For the first time, we left the large hall
with an awkwardness between us. We were
walking through the dimly lit landscape to get Jen when he stopped right in the
middle of the path. He looked at me head
on and said with very little emotion, “I love you. There.
Plain and simple. I love you. I have for awhile but I just tried not to say
it. Tonight I realized there was no one
else I wanted to say that to.”
My heart pounded hard.
I knew I loved him, but saying it would complicate things so much. Now, not saying it would complicate things more. Finally I breathed shakily, then quietly
answered, “I love you too.”
After picking up Jen, he walked with us, as usual, to the
cabin. But this time he kept some
distance between us while laughing and joking much more than usual. It seemed so strange to not have his arm
about my shoulders, especially now. When
we reached the cabin, Jen bounded inside.
Quietly, without warning, he grabbed me and kissed my mouth. Then without a word, he turned and left.
Elvis?
NOOO!
The next two days were filled with a kind of tension that
kept us both from doing our best work.
He was more cautious than he had ever been with his affectionate
displays and yet those private moments when he did display his affection were
amazing. Our games of table tennis were
extreme. He began coaching me harder,
playing with more strength and skill, expending a huge amount of energy. When we were with Jen, his attentions seemed
to be focused completely on her. She ate
it up.
I was a woman possessed.
I wanted to be with him every moment though I found that I was much more
reserved in the public setting as well.
I could no longer tell myself we weren't doing anything wrong, but I
tried to convince myself that my behavior was justified because of all the
infidelity I endured from my spouse.
Moment by moment my desire for him grew.
On the second afternoon, we skipped the main session and went for a long
walk.
The air was warm, but had a hint of change. When we got a ways down the trail from the
resort, we both felt the tension building.
Finally we stopped our almost frantic escape pace and flew into each
other. He held me close and I melted
against his body.
We stood, locked in that embrace with the power of all of
life coursing through us, pressed tight in a cocoon of need and want. I began to sob. “This can't be wrong. It just can't be.”
His reply was a kiss that made my knees weak and my need
grow even stronger. For what seemed an
eternal loop we stood, pressed together, desire coursing through us, pounding
in our ears. We could each feel the
other’s heartbeat in sync with our own. It was as though we knew that if we broke
apart it would be forever. If our lips
left each other, they could never return.
Finally he let go and stepped away, leaving me sobbing uncontrollably. “But it is wrong,” he whispered. “Isn't it?”
Our friendship had grown so deep that no explanation for our
decision was necessary. The desire for
that physical union was still strong, yet we knew it would never be right. It didn't really matter what my husband had
done. It didn't really matter what his
wife had not done. It would violate
everything we believed in and valued. Most
of all, we would be violating each other.
After a few moments I began to breathe again and we eventually turned
without words and made our way back down the trail to the resort.
We sat together at dinner.
It really seemed a little awkward, though Jen teased and played, masking
our pain and loss. At the evenings
brainstorming session, we sat together as we had done for so long, but our
energy was completely spent.
My friend Evelyn came up to me as I stepped out for some
fresh air. “Are you okay? You don’t look
good.”
I smiled back at her concern. “I was just a little
warm. I hope I’m not getting sick.”
“Oh, so that’s where you were this afternoon.” She supplied.
I didn’t answer one way or the other.
He deposited me and my daughter at the door to our cabin,
hugged me softly and disappeared into the darkness.
“Eustace?” I called
out weakly.
“No.” came the exhausted reply.
The night tormented me.
I woke early and went over the itinerary for the day. I didn’t have the heart for it, but I didn’t
want to stay cooped up either. On my way
to the child care facility with my daughter, I ran into the company president. He asked me how I was feeling saying he’d
heard I was ill the day before. I told
him I was some better, though I didn’t really get much sleep that night. It was a short, but amiable exchange.
My friend wasn't at breakfast. Mr. Parker asked me if I knew where he was. I told him I didn't, but I was
concerned because he never missed breakfast.
Right after I dropped Jen off, he fell into stride beside
me. I told him I wasn’t sure if he would
plan to walk or sit with me or not. He
simply replied, “I haven’t stopped loving you.”
And so we reverted to our previous state of friendship on
the outside, overshadowed by a sad resolve on the inside.
The afternoon before the conference ended, I walked to my
cabin to freshen up a bit. I was met by
my husband waiting outside. Quite
surprised, I questioned his presence there.
“You tell me,” he replied.
“I was sent plane tickets and told I needed to be here.” He seemed quite uneasy about the whole
thing. I knew the routine. Some pursuit had been interrupted. “It wasn’t easy to get someone to come in for
the other kids.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Not sure.”
When we got to supper, Dianne was there beside my
friend. He shot me a questioning
look. I smiled back silently. We didn’t speak again that trip.
It was a couple of weeks before he was back in the
office. He came into the break room and
sat beside me. “I'm being transferred.”
“I heard. Sounds like
a good promotion.”
“Not much of a promotion, more like a change of
location. I guess there will be a little
more money for Dianne to spend.”
“I'll miss you.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
I looked at the table for a moment as though it would give
me the right words for the occasion.
“I'll never regret having you for a friend.” I replied.
“Well, regardless of where I am, I will always be that.”
I stood up to go back into my office. At the door I turned to face him.
Eli.
Nope.
I saw him twice a year after that. Once at the yearly training seminar and once
at the company meeting. We always sat
together and ate our meals together, but never mentioned that week
again.
Eventually my marriage eroded and dissolved. I left the company. In time I met someone I learned to love and
respect and I remarried. But I've never
forgotten my friend, even though I never really knew his name.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Pears to ya.
I Found this from a past election year. I had to laugh at the circle of life. Maybe you will get a chuckle from it. Blessings friends.
We have a pear tree on the hill. It's a large, pretty tree.
Early in the spring the south side of the tree blooms in fine little white clusters. About the time the south side blossoms begin to fade, the northern branches produce larger white blossoms. This tree is half Bradford Pear and half fruit bearing. We can only speculate as to its beginnings. The trunk comes out of the ground as one trunk and splits within a couple of feet into two large branches. The branches that come off the northern stock branch bear large pears. Those that immerge from the southern stock have the small round 'fruit' of
There are some branches that seem to come from the north that have the small white blossoms, etc. But if you look closely, you will see that one branch passes completely through another branch. The same is true on the south side. Trying to determine its origin – just because I’m like that- is difficult, though it really is inconsequential. Is it a fruit variety with a graft of a
In this politically charged year, it seems we have a whole slew of these running for president.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Anatevka, Anatevka,
This whole evicted from Multiply thing reminds me of Fiddler on the Roof. We're all passing by to talk and trying to figure out where to go and what to do with our stuff. 'Anatevka, Anatevka, . . . . . ' "Maybe that's why we always wear our hats!"
You do what you do
This summer I applied for Social Security. I cried before and after I did it. It was an unwanted but necessary milestone for me.
In 2003, I considered hard and waited until the deadline before signing my contract for the next school year. There were things about public education that I loved. Very few were active in the school I was working in. I thought about changing schools, but starting again with a new set of problems didn’t seem the answer.
All of education was in upheaval. People at the government level were crying out for the inequities of results versus spending. Those people studied, true, but from a outside position. There were people with good ideas, but they weren't quick fixes. Those ideas didn't appeal to ‘government.’ It is ironic that 9 years later, the real issues are still not addressed, the system is still not successful as a whole and the monies are still being spent.
I was at a very difficult school. It was a sweet school, but with enormous problems that could not be solved through any kind of legislation. One example: The school breakfast program was supposed to help the students with nutrition that would help with concentration and increase learning. Yeah. The kids in question ate potato chips and drank cokes for most meals, both parents were working low income jobs to get by and often teens were in charge of the house and siblings in the mean time. They arrived at school too late for that breakfast on a regular basis. When they did eat breakfast, they didn't want it. “I don't eat that junk!” We're talking about fruit and pastries and cereal. “I don't drink no milk and I don't like juice. I can stand that Sunny D stuff okay (10% juice with fillers, flavoring and sugar) but it’s not my favorite.” The amount of sheer waste in the breakfast program is another issue that I will not address here. So much for increasing the nutrition to effect learning.
In my classroom, I was expected to blend special education, bilingual needs, drug problem behaviors, hormones, and fatigue –theirs more often than mine- with my art curriculum. I had to document how often I taught reading, writing, math skills, science enhancement and critical thinking while controlling the behaviors of kids influenced by family violence, missing dads, and drug abuse. To be sure 80% of my class seldom, if ever, misbehaved, but that remaining group could keep progress at a standstill. You may ask, “Haven't teachers always dealt with that kind of thing?” My reply? “Go sign up to be an aide or substitute teacher.”
I was a teacher mentor, a leader, a sponsor, a tutor. I was no slacker. I did teach science skills, because I taught art conscientiously. My subject did relate to math, to language arts, to history and I honored that. But I found myself teaching less and less art while trying to make up the gap for other subjects. It made no sense to me at all. Finally in 2004, I denied a contract for over $40,000 and decided to open a teaching studio of my own. I would combine and pair with others. I would work up to owning my own art shop. Look out world.
We bought a home that facilitated my studio in Dec 2004 after a long search. It would need a lot of renovation, but it had good land, good location, was totally livable while making the changes, and was reasonably priced. But the grand scheme was not so grand in the living out.
I was already teaching a few students. The market for home-schoolers was not what I was told, primarily because they consider themselves adequate teachers for the most part. That’s why they are home-schoolers. Those who wanted more for their kids than they could supply, wanted to control classes and costs much more than I was prepared to deal with. They didn’t really care if I was certified. “You have to get an education to teach ART??” Slowly I saw the business build. But it never reached it’s promised potential. I love the teaching, even when discouragement sets it. I charge way less than I’m worth in today’s market. Yet I just can’t make myself change. When I do order supplies, I sell them at or below cost. Face it, I’m not a good business person.
Don’t misunderstand. I love my students. I love analyzing their progress and planning my strategies to help them. I love the interaction – maybe too much. I love seeing the results. I'm a good teacher. I'm a good money manager. I'm thrifty. I'm just not a good business person. At the end of the year, when you look at my spread sheet –I also keep excellent records- the bottom line was never enough for my husband to concern himself with. Go figure! The top line wasn't enough to demand notice.
So this summer, I filed for retirement. It’s pitifully little. But the truth is no matter when I file, I will get the same amount of money and I am a thrifty, good money manager. If I wait 10 years, I will get 300 more a month. When I’m in my 70s, that may be an issue, but my husband will get a good retirement, so I decided to stop pretending I will one day be successful as a business woman and do this. It was a difficult decision and one that stripped my pride bare. It still will not approach the value of the contract I denied –ever.
I can work as I have these 8 years and nothing will change. After reviewing the information, my teaching will not effect my retirement at all. Should the business finally mature, I will report my income and after next May, it still won’t reduce my ss payment. If it did mature into a financially productive business, I would probably need an accountant to keep me in line with tax codes and all. That would be an affordable luxury.
It is a move that has reached its time. But it is also a resignation to many critical comments and fears. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.
His Eye is on the Sparrow
It was a different sort of year -a different sort of vacation. My husband, our youngest daughter and I ventured into a new area -well new to us at any rate. Also, it was the first vacation that the 3 of us had taken by ourselves.
It started out nice. We stopped in Oklahoma City to visit an amusement park. It was fun. We rode unlimited rides, joked and played. But late in the day, the rides started making me queasy.
We left the park and began driving toward the Rockies in Colorado. We made it to the Southern range early in the morning and after finding a campsite for the night spent the day exploring on bicycles and on foot. I was very tired and a little dizzy but we pushed on. The night was restless for me. I was trying to shake off the monster growing inside.
We packed our camping gear back into the car and after visiting several scenic locations in the area, set out on the next leg of our trip. We had a planned destination for that night, but found ourselves spending it in a rest area while I churned in my frantic broken sleep between bouts of throwing up. I had a raging fever and my poor husband tried his best to comfort me and rest a little in between.
Finally, I drifted off and we got back on the road early. The fever had broken. He was tired; I was weak. Our daughter was oblivious as children often are. Our next camp was in a small campground above Creede on the headwaters of the Rio Grande. Since I was still quite weak, we stayed fairly close to camp while taking short hikes or bike rides to explore the fascinating geological features of that area. A mountain with towering blue rock formations lay to the north of our campground. We picked about it, climbing up steep loose rock until we were stopped by soaring cliffs rising above a lush bench where we found a lair that caused us a little concern that the animal that had dragged the former owners of those large skeletons up that steep mountain into the protected spot we were exploring might come back. A deep gorge with churning water and interesting rock formations lay to the west. We spent several days just wandering and taking it in.
There was a place on the National Forest map that looked like it might be worth a visit. We would need to drive several miles in to a parking area and then ride our bikes up a trail to the Wheeler Geological Area. Finally when we had only a day or two left before we would head back to Arkansas, we decided to try it. I had some materials that described what we might encounter there along with historical information about the area. It sounded quite interesting and after checking with the proprietors of a small supply store on the main highway, we decided to ride our bikes.
The next day we packed the day packs we would carry with snacks and water, loaded the bikes on the van and set out. Generally I took it upon myself to load the packs and check to make sure all the necessary emergency equipment was in place. But that day we all pitched in. It was a little later than we planned to leave, but we felt we still had plenty of time from the information given, plus we would be riding bikes instead of walking the whole distance. We set out in good spirits toward the unknown.
The road was long. The hiking trail was a fraction of the distance. We chose the wrong one. We were able to ride our bikes for about 3/4 of a mile and then the trek got rocky, steep and difficult. We hauled our bikes more than we rode them for the next mile. A couple of times, we almost chained them beside the trail. The day wore on. The trail was 2 1/2 miles. The road was 14 miles. Believe me, the road would have been much faster on bikes. We made it to the primitive camp ground at the Geological Area about 6 PM that evening. We both realized how late it was, but decided that since we'd come all that way it would be ridiculous not to go in and look. What a look! The formations had at one time caused the area to be given the assignment of 'National Park'. But its remote location and lack of facilities had caused the powers that were to reclassify it as a National Geological Area instead. A system of trails led you around and through various features. It was definitely worth the trouble to see.
On a good weather day, you can drive the road in a 4-wheel drive vehicle very, very slowly. The Area is fairly high in altitude and subject to quick temperature changes and harsh conditions. It was nearly 8 PM when we got back to our bikes. The area was completely deserted. The evening was already cooling drastically. We decided that we would need to take the road back instead of the trail. Sadly, we realized that the packs were very poorly supplied. We had fruit and granola. I had a sweat shirt but no pants to cover my legs clad in shorts. Louis had an extra pair of socks and a light jacket, but he was also lacking anything to cover his legs. Amanda didn't have even a jacket and between the three of us we had one flashlight and no matches.
Never had we been so ill prepared for what we were about to face. We rode as quickly as we could until the dark and cold began to surround us. My small framed thin daughter began to shiver. I was already very cold and between that and worry was losing my rationale. My husband stopped to put his extra pair of socks on Amanda's hands and arms and wrap his light jacket around her to keep her from losing so much body heat. I felt deep inside that I should head on down the trail and look for a place to bed down and conserve body warmth before it got too dark. We would not make it back to the van that night. It was already dark enough that it was hard to ride. I began praying for help to get through the night. Later, my husband would share that he too was praying non stop for help. We only had one emergency blanket between the 3 of us and no plastic and as I've said no matches.
I was a good bit ahead of the other two when I saw a light off to the right of the road. At first, I feared that the cold was causing me to halucinate. But there it was and I heard a voice. Weak and shaking I lay my bike down and began running through the undergrowth between the road and the light. I was trying to cry out, but like in a frantic dream, no sound would come. I heard a woman's voice say "There's someone out there." And a man's voice replied, "No one is out there. A person would have to be crazy to be out here in the dark." Then a light shined my way and the man cried, "There is someone out there. It's a woman." Suddenly I was pulled toward a large canvas tent as another light came on inside.
I protested in a hoarse whisper. "My husband and daughter are on the road behind me." A younger man emerged from the tent and headed out, flashlight in hand, toward the road while I was escorted, still protesting, into a warm light-filled tent. The man returned fairly quickly with my daughter and husband who were shaking as badly with the cold as I.
The tent was huge had wooden beams and a large wood stove inside with a pipe going up through the roof. Several people were bedded down in sleeping bags on the floor We were offered hot chocolate and a snack and a child's sweat suit was pulled out that fit my daughter passably well. They had a supply tent outside that they quickly cleaned out and a couple of sleeping bags were pulled out from under floor palettes. The 3 of us snuggled down into the two zipped together bags and shared warmth through the night. Even with the bags, it was a cold night, but we were not complaining.
The next morning, we returned the sweatsuit, drank a cup of hot liquid and started out in the morning sun down the road toward our waiting van. Our hearts were grateful for the sun and the beauty and the intricate timing that had provided our protection the night before. Had we been earlier, we probably would not have seen the camp, for it was well off the road in the trees. Had we been later, the light would have been off and we would have missed it. Had the elderly couple not come back out from the large tent to brush their teeth and take care of last minute bodily needs, we would have never known of their existence. Yet there they were, the answer to our prayers.
We made it back to the van in pretty good time and wished we had just biked the road in the first place. Yet had we done that, we might have missed that awesome chance to see the love and provision that would be spread before us in the wilderness.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Time Flies - Really.
In April, I also acquired a dog. It's been a little over a year since my old ShihTzu died. I had decided I wanted a larger dog that I would be able to run with early in the mornings and take on trips, etc. I looked for a long time, but toward the end of April, I started talking to a person about taking in a wild lab/shepherd mix pup. He was a pitiful little thing the first time I saw him. Mostly black, scared silly and void of pet grace, I piled him into my car, brought him home and began making him my dog. It's been a long process and it's not yet complete, but he is a good dog and I believe will be even better.
Toward the end of May, Olivia came for the summer. She's 7, noisy and creative. Sometimes she's helpful; sometimes she's demanding; always she's my princess. Other than a week in July, she stayed until the second week in August. Suddenly my house seems empty. My pool seems empty. My life seems upended.
After a week at camp, my mother came to stay with us for two weeks. It was a happy, sad, defeating, fulfilling, whirlwind of days. She really wanted to be the only child she never was, but alas, my house was full, my life was full. We didn't reach any great improvements in our relationship. We didn't gain any great understanding or mother/daughter bond. But when the time was gone, I was saddened by the loss.
The week after mom went home, my granddaughter Kenlei joined the ranks for a week. She's quite the opposite of her cousin Olivia. She's quiet, decisive, stubborn but submissive in ways. She and Kenlei played constantly and I didn't really have much time with either. When I swam with them, I usually got out and just supervised after a short time of being ignored while they played. I must say I definitely like them better one at a time. But we enjoyed what we had for the time.
Liv went home for a week after Kenlei left and we began the renovation of our hall bathroom. The tub that had developed leaks and drainage problems was extracted with some difficulty and my husband began discovering and remedying plumbing problems. Liv came back and spent two more weeks. It was a fun time and we watched the Olympics together. She made a ceramic angel to hold her jewelry and helped me with a variety of tasks. It was a good two weeks for the most part.
The day I took Olivia home, my granddaughter Hannah came to stay while she starts a new teaching position -her first- and looks for an apartment. She thought she'd found her first personal dwelling, but then reconsidered when she thought about being alone on a country highway night after night. So we said "Take your time." It's nice having her bubbly creative energy in our home.
My fall teaching schedule begins next week in my studio. While I am excited and ready to go, I am a bit tired and long for a respite. It was planned that my nieces would visit the second week of September, bringing a week of carefree gadabout creative craziness, but that had to be postponed for a bit. My bucket list for this year includes several activities that may not come to be. My dog is not a running, traveling buddy yet. My daughter has issues that still need resolved and I have a bathroom renovation in progress. Yesterday I was served a summons for jury duty!
Sigh.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Okay friends, I am trying out Blogger.
Okay friends, I am trying out Blogger. https://plus.google.com/u/0/103656774726225738443/about
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
I can adapt
I can adapt to most anything in time. So which site is less likely to fold after 5 years???
Thursday, August 2, 2012
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