Gypsy’s tale

A couple of months ago, I and all my neighbors kept seeing this little dog, running loose on the street, looking terrified and ratty, who would not let anyone near.  Some people at the end of my street were putting food out for her but she was just wild and they couldn’t catch her.  She’d be just standing in the middle of the road, wild-eyed, and it’s a wonder she wasn’t killed by a hawk or owl, run over, or killed by another dog.  She was “out there” for about two months.

Finally, she was captured in a humane trap, and my friend Dawn had her for a few days.  Dawn would have kept her, but she’d just adopted two little rescue critters, and her house was full.  I met her at Dawn’s, shivering in a crate, utterly eaten alive with fleas, and my heart went out to her.  I gave her a name, arranged for her to be taken to the vet for health care and grooming, and ended up taking her home from the vet’s right around Halloween.

She bit Dawn, pretty savagely, and we thought she’d need sedation when she was groomed, but she appeared to be right at home in that setting, and did beautifully.  She was calm, but still wary and defensive.  She did not have heartworms, she didn’t have a microchip (most purebred dogs do), and they estimated her age at 2-3 years.  She had been spayed.  Her weight is 6.9 pounds.  So she was someone’s dog, and even though I’ve asked her to tell me her story, it remains a mystery.

People had posted her photo and description on Facebook and the word was all over our area, but no one came forth to claim this little girl.  She is a Chinese Crested—you’ll find info aplenty about this ancient breed.  She is somewhere between a hairless and powderpuff variety—not hairless, but not puffy either.  She looks like a tiny lion with a mane, feathery feet and a tuft of hair at the end of her tail.  Her ears are indescribable.  She is prance-y and lively and seems pretty happy now that she’s in a place where she feels safe.  She only bit me once, and it was absolutely defensive.

She’s learned quickly what is expected of her:  outdoors for elimination, mealtimes, and she’s crated when I’m not home so she doesn’t get into trouble.  She likes to collect things and is happiest when she’s near me.  She knows her name and is getting better at coming when she’s called.  She’s begun to defend her food with the most ridiculous growl but Rumer listens.  She and Rumer get along fine, and I make sure R. knows she is and will always be Numero Uno.

I decided to give Gypsy a home, simply because she badly needed one.  My intent was not altogether clear to me, and still isn’t, but it’s a tossup between fostering/rehabilitating her, and giving her a forever home.  Gypsy is not the dog I would have chosen, but I feel that she chose me.  If someone came along who wanted her, I would entertain their application, if they could provide references.  For now, she’s got a home, but I have standards.  I won’t treat her like a silly ornament, and she gets the same care Rumer gets.  Same food, same attention and care.  Though I do have some coats for her for when the weather changes.

I know you want to see some photos, so here they are:

 

 

 

dear ben

It’s your 36th birthday and I just have to say a few things.  I wept one morning last week on my ride to work when a woman who had lost her husband to the anthrax attack in DC, said she still expected him to come in the door and sit down to dinner, even though it’s been so many years.  Your mother and I talk about this, and we feel the same way.  Does that mean you are close by?  It’s still an impossibility, your death, never mind that it happened two years ago.   We miss you so much and the world is a poorer place.

Jude is learning to skate, and you would have loved to show him your tricks and your love of skating.  Rachael is having another baby boy who will not be as lucky to have you be his manny.  You would have been such a great father!

I try and be there for your mom and dad as they regretfully grow into life without you.  We talk about you all the time!  Your mother has the most amazing memory for things you’ve said and done.  I love to quote you on Monday mornings when we all feel like our weekend was two seconds long.

At least we concede that your short life did not go un-lived.  You devoured every day.  You celebrated holidays so beautifully, especially Halloween.  Your costumes were wonderful, even as an adult.  I’m inspired by you!   You were such an unselfconscious person, and that gave you the ability to accept others and love them just as they are.  Your kindness and generosity of spirit made it impossible not to love you.

All of us who love you keep you alive in our memories and our hearts, for losing you changed us all.  Tristan, your soul brother, Van, TJ and Dave, your “real” brothers, Betsy and Scotty, my Ben, Rachael, me.  We are not the same.  My touchstones are your mosaic fish, fireworks, the incredible drawings you did as a child-a baby, really.  The urn holding your precious ashes draws me-I always lay my hand on its cool surface when I’m at your house, and let memories of you vibrate through me.  I send you love and peace.  Even though part of me thinks you’ll walk in the door again.

So we’ll have a birthday dinner in your honor, and celebrate your life.  We’ll think of you.  We’ll hug and cry, each of us dealing with loss in our own way.  You’ll be there, a never-ending presence, unforgotten and always loved.

occasional blogger

Working sure does take up a lot of time, time I might be spending writing.  But it pays the bills and I’m thankful for my wonderful job.  I work with some bright, kind, conscientious people who inspire me to excellence.  This old dog is learning some new tricks, on a very steep learning curve, and loving every minute of it.

But I miss my little blog and sharing the mundane details of my profoundly ordinary existence.  Guess I could quickly update what’s happ’nin.

Both the gingko and dogwood trees are doing well, in spite of this wickedly dry and hot summer.  Of course, I water them EVERY week as instructed.  Also watering potted plants EVERY DAY and enjoying the blooms.  NES came along and demolished the fence row between me and Ruby, and that’s now a work in progress. I.E. a huge mess.  I envision climbing roses all along the fence and more flower gardens, now that sun can get to the back corner.  My other neighbor is also in the process of major yard cleanup and even trimmed the huge poplar that overhangs a little village of crepe myrtles between our driveways.  They will really appreciate the breathing room.  And they are badly in need of trimming, but I’m too short.

The cicadas’ visitation was dramatic, noisy, and so very interesting.  I don’t miss them, though.  Thirteen years will be a nice break.  Think what we might all be doing by then.

Let’s see, concert forecast:   The Devil Makes Three tonight, later on KD Lang, Bruce Cockburn, Bluebird on the Mountain in October with six of our best friends.  Possible trip to Hawaii at years’ end.  And CALIFORNIA! in August with the family, including the bonus of a visit with Susana, one of my Vermont darlings.

The Bells Bend CSA is providing me with a very sufficient quantity of lovely organic veggies.  It is good to eat local, in season, healthy food.  I’d do it again.  It’s also good to see youngsters who embrace the land and love farming.  They are a wonderful group of hardworking kids.  Their mommas should be proud.

It’s almost two years since we lost Ben Koomen, and it remains painful and tragic and hard to accept.  Betsy and I cry together still, and talk about him, and worry over Scotty, and the rest of the boys, who hurt too.  Tristan got his memorial tattoo for Ben last week in Taiwan, and I think all our tats are powerful symbols of our everlasting love and honor for him.

Doug and I will be together for a year pretty soon (if he doesn’t break up with me before next week) hahaha!!!  I’m still kind of amazed that it’s working–we couldn’t BE more different if we tried.  He earned the thumbs up from my old friend Lee who visited a few weeks ago.

Now I gotta go vacuum up dog hair.  Which reminds me to say that Rumer is slowing down dramatically, and is nearly deaf and blind.  She doesn’t hear me come in the door at the end of the day and has given me a fright more than once by not moving a muscle till I make my presence known.  Big sigh of relief.  I’m not ready; as you all know, she’s the best dog ever.

 

single grandmotherhood

o.m.g.  I’m as tired and happy as I can be.  Jude is in the house for a week, coinciding with my second week at a new job.  Finding a place for him to be every day?  Touch and go.  Thank-yous aplenty to Betsy and Dave, Doug, Julie and Seth, and especially Kelly, who is taking not one, but two days off to keep the boy.  Everyone has taken a turn!  I’m so very grateful.  Getting him back at the end of the day?  Priceless!  It’s a delight to have him be part of my life again.  The house looks like a tornado went through it, if I may say so without diminishing the suffering of real tornado victims.  I’m washing dishes at ten PM because there’s NO MORE ROOM IN THE SINK!  That’s my antique house; we don’t have modern conveniences like a dishwasher.  Even though he makes me crazy more than once a day, I’m energized by having him around, too.  Today, for example:  up at 5:30, Jude loaded and outfitted and dropped off with Julie and Seth at 7:30.  On to work until 5 PM.  Home.  Grilled a big ole hunk of London broil that’s been marinating.  Cooked up some veggies from the CSA share (carrots, beets, fennel).  Went to Target because Jude was soooooo good the last couple days he deserved a new toy, and to procure necessities.  Home again to watch him pogo, ride bike, gave him a bath, read a book (we managed one page of I Spy), call mama and daddy, get clothes out for tomorrow, pack pool bag, brush teeth, night-night.  I went on to clean the house (vacuum up dog hair, put stuff away-I mean, there was stuff EVERYwhere, wash that pile of dishes, fold some clothes, get ready what I needed for work, tried and failed to find some paperwork, thought about what to wear tomorrow, took a shower, wrote this, read my book a little. It was a busy and lovely day.  And it rained!  We needed it so badly, and that means I don’t need to water in the morning, whoo-hoo.

So, all that to say, KUDOS to all you single moms out there, never mind, all mothers of little kids who want a minute for themselves, who love and nurture their children, have incredibly busy lives, and accomplish so much every day.  Day in and day out.  This has only been a week for me.  It’s made me grateful I wasn’t a single mother, and even more appreciative of my daughter.   It’s given me a new connection with my precious grandson.

I have one confession.  When I got up this morning, I wadded my hair up into a little bun with some pins, decided it looked good enough, and went to work without even dragging a comb through it.  Is that bad?

on golf

Once I thought the game of golf was beyond dumb, knocking a little ball into a hole in the ground?  Seriously?  To be a sport, I tried it once before and it was frustrating and seemingly hopeless.  The people I played with suggested I try playing left-handed……

I am predominately a lefty, but really, sports and recreational activities I do with my right hand (baseball, bowling, knitting, sewing) although tennis and badminton can go either way.  The left hand is for writing, eating, tooth-brushing.  So, from that experience, I pretty much wrote off my ability to ever play golf.  Besides, it was a stupid game, right?

Last weekend, I tried, really tried, playing golf, many years after that first attempt.  This development came after a pretty successful trip to the driving range, surprising both me and the boyfriend, who happens to be a crackerjack golfer.  The balls I hit off the tee went pretty far and in a straight line.  I decided to try and learn the game, so we can have a shared pastime , since he will never bloody likely go snow skiing, and I will probably not be inclined to waterski.

We went to a par-3 course, which had, by the way, 2 holes that were par 4, making the par score for the course 29.  BF, naturally, was right there in that range.  My score was more like 72, and that was with multiple forgiven bad tee-offs.  I had to grit my teeth and bite out curses a couple of times, but managed to hang in there for all nine holes, and I actually enjoyed it, in spite of the heat and humidity and frustration.  The game is SO frustrating that any success whatsoever is cause for celebration, but I can now see that it will be worthwhile to play enough to gain some skill and confidence.  Photo above, by the way, was taken AFTER the round, and that’s me, still smiling.

At the driving range, thinking of going all the way around a course seemed pretty daunting.  Now at the par-3 course, a “real” course feels like an insurmountable obstacle.  It’s all about perspective!  Concentration!  Focus!

Having turned my nose up at the idea of using a cart (why spoil a good walk?) I see their value:  shade.  You get plenty of walking, going from the tee-off place to the green and back and forth to the cart for different clubs and all.  And I like jogging to the next place early in the round.  I hope to get strong arms, increased trunk mobility and core strength, flexibility, endurance, and the ability to make that incredibly satisfying snapping sound when you hit the ball just right.

The golf course is not a standardized playing field, and the course is definitely a character in the drama of a game.  The par-3 course that was my maiden outing was far tamer than one we “walked” while visiting my hometown of Southwick, Massachusetts, Longhi Golf Course.  That beast was situated over hill and dale and was simply frightening.  Smyrna golf–much more reasonable.  It’s right by a little airport, and featured some birdwatching opportunities as well as a nice, flat, relatively easy game of golf.  I was delighted to see a Northern Kingbird fluttering over the grass snatching insects out of the air.

Longhi had a sweet little putt-putt course that we played, too.  I honestly think that sinking a hole in one on the very first hole profoundly affected my newfound positive outlook on the game of golf.  Now, THAT was thrilling, and isn’t that what we’re all looking for out there on the links?

employed? me?

Hate to even let this cat out of its bag, for fear of the jinx, but I am registered for orientation, have filled out paperwork, and have a start date.  I have a job!  and a job for which I think I will be well-suited, a job that was offered to me right at the interview, and a job I hope I will keep until I am able to retire, should that day ever come.

Not even going to say any more, except how incredibly grateful and humbled I am by this opportunity.

My life these days feels as though I am already retired.  I’ve visited, shopped, cooked, worked in the yard, had company, travelled, finished up projects, started new ones, caught up on business, watched a bunch of movies, read a buncha books, too.  It has been lovely the past two months, minus a stressor or two.  One more week till I start working, and you can bet I plan on enjoying it.

I’m going to play a round of golf for the first time (par 3) and am pretty psyched to see if my concentration can hold up for nine holes.  ’Cuz that’s what I’m told it’s all about.  Trying not to imagine needing fifty strokes to find the cup, thinking more like, well, three.  Ha-ha!  clubs bent over the knee!  That’s harder to do than it looks in the cartoons, I imagine.

Got family here today, and a birthday dinner to enjoy!  My baby is now thirty-two years old, if you can believe that.  So see ya!

I only wish these were my peonies…maybe next year.

home turf

Mmmmmmm, I’m going back to Massachusetts, something’s telling me I must go home…..

And that is where I spent last week with my mother and father, and the boyfriend, AKA the best sport that ever was.  We had lots of plans:  Boston, a Red Sox game, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (that plan was mine, I’ll admit), but ultimately we just wanted to spend time with the elder Paces.  Here are some of the highlights:

The Springfield Armory museum (big innovative gun factory in its day) and home of STCC, my AD in nursing alma mater.  Quite interesting, and we had a nice walk around campus, now bustling and updated, but the quadrangle is still there, lined with oaks and maples, dotted with dogwoods and even redbud trees.

Another day, we went to the history and art museum, featuring an enormous collection of Indian motorcycle memorabilia. Amazing.  Ben would have LOVED it.  Also an assortment of really fancy old motorcars, made by Rolls Royce, Pierce Arrow, and the like.  Indian made a prototype automobile, and it was on display.  Herb and Shirley joined us for that, and a stroll past the Dr. Seuss memorial, a cluster of brass sculptures of Horton, Thing One and Thing Two, Theodore himself sitting at his desk, and the Cat in the Hat.  Dr. S. was from Springfield, and established the city’s park (Forest Park) way back when.  I have lots of memories of the park, but did not visit this time.

We helped with some yardwork:  I turned over flower beds, and Doug cleaned out the eave troughs, known here in the South as gutters.  The weather was utterly perfect the whole week, cool and sunny and breezy.  Perfect.  And yes, at eighty-nine, my dad will still set out a bed of impatiens and other annuals to brighten the yard.  My mother can out-shop me any day, too.  They are both amazing.

Doug and my dad played a game of golf, and Doug and I played a round of miniature golf.  I got a hole in one!  Psyched!  I’m a golfer now, boy.  I’m sure I’ll be reminded that it was off a mulligan, but whatever.  It went in with one shot.  Afterwards, we walked the lovely 9-hole Longhi golf course in my hometown of Southwick, and my golf enthusiasm was pretty dampened by the daunting hills and sheer length of the holes.  Could imagine needing dozens of shots to even get to the green.

My cousin Danny, fifteen years ago, bought an old theater and did the renovations, and has been putting on plays ever since.  The Odd Couple was a perfect play for us, if you know what I mean.  We really enjoyed it!  and it was great to see Dan, who just became a proud grandfather.  He’s a playwright, too, and they’ll put on one of his works next season.  Proud of that, too.

The last day we were there, we trekked to Rhode Island to the beach, and had lunch there, walked around the little town of Point Judith.  We watched the Block Island Ferry come in.  Breathed ocean air.  Visited a state park organized around a kettle pond.  This from Wikipedia:  Kettles are fluvioglacial landforms occurring as the result of blocks of ice calving from the front of a receding glacier and becoming partially to wholly buried by glacial outwash. Glacial outwash is generated when streams of meltwater flow away from the glacier and deposit sediment to form broad outwash plains called sandurs. When the ice blocks melt, kettle holes are left in the sandur.

The photo is of a brook running through a nature preserve on Mort Vining Road, that Doug and I both walked, just at different times.  I was untroubled by the gnats and skeeters, but they ate him UP.  I took him to the Granville Gorge, too, a rocky stream and place of beauty, not to be missed.

Talk about the life in Massachusetts,
Speak about the people I have seen,
And the lights all went down in Massachusetts
And Massachusetts is one place I have seen.   (thanks, Bee Gees)

Back to job-hunting.

idle

Yes, I am.  In addition to seeking employment, I’m not doing a lot else.  Stuff costs money, right?  Glad I’ll soon have the diversion of going “home” for a visit with my folks.  Meanwhile, I thought I’m make a list of things on my mind:

I’m scared of my basement; I just don’t like going down there.  I MUST suck it up, though and make a point of going down there once a month at least to be sure things are OK in this old house.  It’s those fat, long-legged humpy crickets……

Beloved Rumer is old, too.  Her hearing is really bad, and her vision is the same.  She fell down the other day when we were walking.  It’s distressing.  I’ve started her on glucosamine to try and ease her arthritic pain; hope it helps.

I have watched HOURS of movies and such on Netflix:  the instant play list is pretty darn long.  Officially a Gleek now, too.  Good free entertainment.  Thank you!  The company has flexed to meet consumer’s needs since 1999; I joined soon after, and wish I had bought stock.  If it ever went public.

My second unemployment check is in the bank, just in time for bills.  Not that it is by any means enough.

You’d think my house would be clean, but it really isn’t.  Dis-motivated from such lofty goals.

Job applications.  Every day.

Reading The Lacuna (Barbara Kingsolver), and will watch The Last Station (about Trotsky) to see how compatible the two versions are.  Thinking big here.

I’m boring myself, can’t imagine what it’s like for you.  Onward…..

PS:  the BF is back in.

unemployed

It’s so strange, being without a job.  Any other time I’ve not worked, it was planned and short-lived.  When I moved back to Nashville from Atlanta, I took a couple of months off just because, and there were brief interludes many years ago when I did not work.  I’ve been working at something or other since I was thirteen years old.  Summer jobs, after school, during college.

Today I learned that I will be receiving unemployment benefits, for which I am incredibly grateful.  I also learned names and circumstances leading up to my being fired, that previously I had not been told by my former employer.  Apparently the Tennessee employment office was more deserving of the details than I.  I cried for the first time during all the upheavals I’ve recently gone through, simply because the TN. gov. person I spoke with on the phone was so very kind.  Now those are some people who’ve had good training in customer relations; It’s on my list to figure out a way to say thanks.

Still trying to decide about whether to reconcile with the boyfriend.  He came over to see me last night, and I miss him a lot.  We had planned to go and visit my parents in a few days, and I really wanted that to happen.  It’s so very difficult when two worlds collide:  there’s a great light, but ultimately?  I need a sign or something telling me the right thing to do.

The past few days I’ve done some gardening, some visiting, some birthday-celebrating, some film watching.  I’ve communicated with friends and my children a lot.  I’ve become a “Gleek” and watched, I think, sixteen episodes from the first season, kind of obsessively.  This morning I made a list of art galleries housing some work I want to see, and I think I will take the day “off” to browse, feast my eyes, and ponder.  I’m awaiting a decision on a job I’ve interviewed for, not anxiously, but hopeful.  I need to have the RIGHT job for me; hope I know it when I see it.  And vice versa!

Unemployed.  A strange condition.  Not fatal!  just strange.  And kind of peaceful, when one takes a break from worrying.  I’m gonna go and do just that.

on turning sixty

Last year, when I turned fifty-nine, I started saying that I was sixty, just to get in practice so I wouldn’t gag on the word when the time came.  Now that the time has come, I have absolutely no problem with being this age!

And even though I didn’t expect to be fired from my job three weeks ago, and am a bit devastated, I welcome the chance to reinvent myself.  I’m now shopping for exactly the right position and for work that I will do happily for the next five (best case) or ten years.

I wasn’t so happy at that job, anyhow.

And now, I appreciate that I’m able to roll with punches, having seen it all, done most of it, and am OK with most any circumstance that comes my way.  I think it’s called acceptance.

Another event occurred yesterday to further strip me from what/who I think/thought I was.  My boyfriend (hate that word, and need to invent another, more appropos term for a consort of a certain age) of almost a year, inexplicably dumped me.  No reason given, no sense that we were on the rocks beforehand, a sudden shipwreck, with the news delivered via text message:  ”your house keys are in the mail.”  REALLY?  the day before my 60th birthday?  Geez.

Well, OK.  Time to count the blessings, and I have MANY.  Great kids, wonderful friends, supportive parents (still alive, yes!), a great place to live, the best dog ever.  Just as an aside, waking up on my 60th with all this going on, Rumer, who used to hear my eyelids open as her cue to remind me it is breakfast time, was not even in the kitchen after I had gotten up, gone to the bathroom, started coffee, and taken my wake-up self portrait.  I took a deep breath, went to where she was sleeping, and, crossing my fingers, patted my thigh for her to come get her kibble.  When she clambered to her feet, it MADE MY DAY!  That would have just been too much, people.

Today has been amazing!  I slept late, talked to someone about a job, had lunch with my BFF (red curry), watched a movie (Water for Elephants), ate a cupcake, made a wish on the pretend candle, and had supper at friends’ house with another woman whose birthday it was, too.  Got more than fifty facebook messages!  Wow.  Sweet.

Trying to decide what to do about the boyfriend who now wants to say sorry and start over.

Here are two self-portraits I took today, one having just rolled out of bed, and the other taken when I was ready to leave the house.  Can you tell the difference?  I think maybe you can.  Either way, sixty looks like this.