HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BFF

 

          It is likely that each one of us has a BFF, or Best Friend Forever; and sometimes, one can be fortunate to have more than just one. I believe I’m one of the lucky individuals who does have more than one BFF. I am immensely grateful for each and every one.

          What brought this to mind today is that it is my closest BFF’s (meaning I see her at least once a week) birthday. We no longer exchange gifts, but we do exchange cards and take each other to lunch when our birthdays come around. We also don’t always manage to have the birthday lunch on the actual birthday, but it doesn’t matter when or where, just that we do this.

          Claudia is my BFF even though we haven’t known each other all our lives. I have another BFF who has known me longer than anyone else who lives on Cape Cod. Anyway, Claudia and I met at Woodland Park Zoo. Initially, we were merely acquaintances until there was an upheaval that left an important position vacant. Claudia was drafted to fill that position part time and performed in that position much better than the woman who had held it full-time.

          At that point, we came to share an office, with our desks adjacent. That’s when we began to know each other and first became friends. I look back on that time with a smile on my face...it was work, but we had fun. Claudia is a hard worker and was appalled at some of the discrepancies she found in various sections of the zoo. I estimated at one point that she had saved the zoo more than ten thousand dollars by eliminating phones and modems that no longer existed or were not in use.

          A few years later, my boss tasked me with “temporarily” supervising several people, one of which was Claudia. I had to work very hard to make sure I didn’t show any favoritism in the workplace and think I managed quite well. My last year at the zoo, after “temporarily” supervising for more than ten years, I was relieved of my supervisory responsibilities.

          As an aside here, I’d like to note that I supervised another woman who also became my BFF.

          Anyway, it’s now been more than two decades since Claudia and I have been in each other’s lives. There are so many memories, i.e., numerous birthdays, lavender festivals, ferry rides, nursery trips, family successes and worries, becoming grandparents, zoo events, health scares and problems, death…the list is incredibly long. Throughout the years, we have laughed and I’ve cried…Claudia is very positive and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her really depressed or hardly ever manifesting tears. However, Claudia’s always been quick to support, encourage and dry my tears. I am so grateful and blessed by her strength and reassurance.

          You often hear people say or read thoughts expounded by other individuals about how important it is to express your feelings while there is still time. Today, I’ve taken the time to write about my BFF, although I don’t feel as though this even comes close to depicting Claudia or our friendship. Words simply aren’t enough, or my ability to use them in this instance fails.

          What is important is we share each other’s lives. What’s important is that I love Claudia deeply, strongly, without a single reservation. Claudia fills my heart with love and joy. I’ve already wished her Happy Birthday, called and sung the Birthday song, but here, again, I do wish with all my heart a very Happy Birthday to my BFF.

KUMA UPDATE

 

          Last Friday, Kuma was neutered at Seattle Humane. I drove him there before the crack of dawn; and have come to the realization I do not like driving in the dark in unknown locations. We made it and arrived about ten minutes early even though I made a wrong left turn and had to reverse my direction.

          When the young woman came to get Kuma, he eagerly greeted her at the car window, stepping all over me in the process. She put on her lead and I took off Kuma’s leash. Did he hesitate to leave the car? Nope. Did he look back as though he was going to miss me horribly? Nope. He went off with this strange woman, stopping to sniff at places other dogs must have peed. I have to admit I did feel a bit abandoned.

          It was no longer dark on my return trip from Bellevue. Back home, the house seemed strangely empty and silent even though I usually put Kuma in his crate when I have to leave, so he wouldn’t be rushing to the door to greet me anyway. I had jokingly said I was going to loll around and enjoy the lolling since Kuma wouldn’t be there to try to sit on my I-pad, eat my magazine, or place his paws on my keyboard. What I did after having breakfast was go back to bed. I didn’t get up until noon.

          Then, I had lunch and did read until it was time to pick up my friend who was going to ride along for the pickup. We arrived in plenty of time to go to the other side of Seattle Humane and look at all the dogs and cats up for adoption. My friend would really like a dog at some point. I find visiting these animals very hard because I want to adopt every single one and bring them all home…not that Seattle Humane would allow that. I just feel so bad, especially for the older animals who probably were given up out of necessity.

          Kuma was glad to see me, although he didn’t do too much jumping around. I had put his crate in the car and put him into it so he wouldn’t be climbing around the interior. He didn’t like that at all and did some whining until we got underway. When I dropped my friend off, I backed down her driveway. Kuma equates backing up with going into our garage. Once again, he wasn’t happy because I didn’t turn off the car and let him out.

          Back home, we tried both the hard plastic shield and the soft doughnut around his head to keep him from licking his stitches. He shook the plastic one right off, so we used the soft one. He didn’t wear it Monday night or Tuesday when I went to river exercise and didn’t lick the stitches.

          The instructions said to pick up all his toys and put them away. I watched him traverse the house more than once looking for them. He finally found one I missed and wanted me to throw it for him so badly, but I said no. His only source of joy has been his yak chew bones. Since I won’t hold them once they reach a certain size, he’s taken to tossing them up in the air. I can’t believe the loud noise when that bone hits the floor. Then, he pounces like there’s nothing wrong with his behind and tosses it again. It’s nice he can amuse himself.

          Kuma has been trying my patience no end, not that I had much to begin with; but, our inability to go play and work off some of his energy is taking its toll. Monday night, he almost got a serious case of the zoomies, but I was able to halt his bouncing off the furniture and beds before it got too bad. He doesn’t seem to think he has a problem, but the instructions say he has to be careful to not pull the internal stiches before he heals.

          On Tuesday, I was busy at the computer and Kuma got up and took an avocado off the counter. When I discovered what he’d done, all that was left was some skin and the seed. He’d devoured the rest, but did leave some spots on the carpet which I had to clean up. On Wednesday, even though I’d moved the fruit bowl to a location I thought was out of his reach, I turned around and he had an orange on the floor.

          Kuma has also taken a great liking to the fringe on my chenille bedspread. Whenever he disappears and it’s quiet and I haven’t yet made my bed, he’s in there pulling and chewing on the fringe. On what’s become my side of the bed, almost all the fringe over about a foot of the bedspread has been chewed and pulled off. I have to cut the loose pieces off. I don’t mind too terribly much even though I really like the bedspread. I bought it at a garage sale for five dollars and planned to make a bathrobe for myself…probably not going to happen.

          Then there was the cute little plush lamb I'd saved for Kuma. I gave it to him about 10:00 am and before the end of the day, the lamb was completely gutted, and I was picking up clumps of stuffing all over the house. It's hard to believe just how much material is in one of those things. He got the squeaker out and chewed the heck out of it, and I took it away before he could swallow any parts. Before bedtime I picked up the last of the stuffing as well as two drained pieces of the lamb and put it all in the garbage. In the past, Kuma hasn't completely gutted a plush; and with the exception of once, he's never taken the squeaker out. I guess the poor puppy is frustrated too.

          Next week we begin Kuma’s Intermediate Puppy Training class. I have high hopes he’ll learn how to heel and behave himself so we can go on walks without him lunging and barking at every person/animal we come across.

          Don’t get this post wrong. I’m still extremely happy I got Kuma. I wouldn’t trade him for anything. I still find him fun and delightful most of the time. It’s just that this past and coming week, we can’t get our needed exercise and it’s driving us both a bit batty.

ROADS LESS TRAVELED

 

          Do you ever wonder about the roads less traveled? I do now and then as I make my usual way to whatever destination awaits. I have this mental image of myself going to and coming from the same place throughout all the years I’ve lived in this house. I sometimes wonder if there are other dimensions and the other mes are busily traversing the same path as me over and over. 

          My parents lived in Lynnwood for many years. Since my son and his family moved to Lynnwood, I take the same roads I took when I went to my folks, just go a few blocks further west. Why have I never taken the time to drive around that neighborhood or the one my son lives in now?

          When I was taking daily walks I sometimes would take a different route just to see what was down or up that street. Why don’t I do that when I’m driving my car? Why don’t I turn left instead of right? Why don’t I decide I want to see what’s on the other side of this hill? Would it matter if I got lost? Probably not because sooner or later I’d find my way; and who knows, maybe see some interesting stuff.

          For that matter, why don’t I pick a neighborhood I’ve never ever been to and go there to see if it resembles my own? I wouldn’t necessarily have to drive the entire neighborhood because I could park and walk for however long I wanted. I know just on the walking route I usually take in my own area, there’s almost always something I didn’t notice before, especially as the seasons change.

           I think in addition to the other new stuff I’m doing and plan to do, I’m going to choose destinations to which I’ve never gone and go there. There’s sure to be new and interesting details just waiting for me to discover.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOR

 

          Today is my son Thor’s forty-third birthday. I don’t know about those of you who read my blog, but when one of my sons celebrates a birthday, it provides me with an opportunity to remember and celebrate so many things from the years they’ve been part of my life from conception to now. I want to share some of those today.

          We tried for at least five years to have a second child and were going to give up after May 1979. By the end of June, we knew we were pregnant with a due date the following February. I enjoyed being pregnant with Thor and all the attention his father and brother paid to the growing belly bump. It was a very happy time.

          Thor was a very happy baby. He was full of smiles, nursed well and delighted in the devotion of all family members and friends whether they lived with him in the house or merely came to visit. The saddest part of Thor’s first year for me was when he decided he no longer wanted to nurse. He wasn’t quite nine months old, but he’d already come to the conclusion there was way more to life than facing mommy’s chest. He could chug a bottle and be on his way in minutes.

          We tried to slow him down by calling him, “Tortoise,” affectionately but that didn’t work at all. He wanted to do everything his older brother, AJ, by ten years did. He potty trained himself because he wanted to stand up and pee. He had a little plastic three-wheeled bike which he took over the jump the older boys did with their bikes. He wasn’t hurt, but his bike was totaled. He idolized AJ and followed in his footsteps in many ways.

          I went back to work when Thor was four years old. He didn’t like that even though the daycare provider told me I was barely out of sight before the tears disappeared and he was busy playing. I now think the tears were for my benefit because I so hated to leave him, my last child, in another’s care.

          Thor did very well in elementary and  middle school, but gave us a few concerns when he reached high school. His dad was convinced none of the transgressions were Thor’s fault, but the fault of the other participant(s). It was at this point we found out his older brother AJ had had his own misbehaviors; however, AJ just never got caught.

          Thor played soccer and I loved to watch him and his teammates practice and play. One year, the team somehow was put up against a really good team, a select team if you will. Thor was the goalie and the game was played mostly in front of his goal. He didn’t allow one goal and told me after the game that he knew he had it the first time he caught the ball. The ball was a THOR ball. His team won 1-0 and we were all amazed the team pulled it off against a supposedly much better team.

          Thor also played basketball for a while. Initially, AJ and a friend of AJ’s were the coaches. It was so special to see AJ out there coaching his brother and the other kids. The time they spent in front of the  house at our basketball hoop amounted to a lot of hours because Thor joined AJ out there when he could ba rely lift a regulation basketball. These are the kind of memories that makes a mom’s heart swell.

          With two years of high school to go, Thor decided he didn’t want to attend there any longer. On his own, he investigated the potential of attending Lake Washington Vocational Technical College. His dad was very much against this until he found out Thor would graduate with a high school diploma. We gave our permission and Thor ultimately had two graduations, i.e., one for his high school diploma and one for his diesel mechanic’s certificate.

          Unfortunately, it was at this point Thor had some serious, and scary, health problems so rather than getting a job as a diesel mechanic, he went to work for his dad. His father taught him everything he knew, which was a lot, about carpentry, plumbing and electrical. There isn’t anything Thor cannot do when it comes to these abilities to which his wife can attest. I can also attest to his capabilities because there are many completed projects around this house for which Thor is responsible…and he continues to help his poor old mom out whenever possible.

          When John closed his company, Thor had already found one of several jobs he’d have the next few years. He has never been without a job since and he’s always given each and every company far more than required.

          It was about eleven years ago Thor met his wife, Amber. She had two children, the youngest only three years old. Thor is the only dad she has ever known and he is a good father to her. Xander was born eight years ago, and while I loved to see how Thor interacted with his daughter, I was there when he first held his son. I’ll never forget that moment.

          I know we all say we simply can’t understand how quickly the time has flown, but there’s no stopping it. Today Thor is forty-three years old, but to me it seems like only last week I hugged his swaddled little body in my arms. Now, my head is below his chin and his arms wrap completely around me. Still a wonderful feeling but extremely different.

          Today, as always, I hold Thor in my heart and allow my mind to bring forth memories, each a snapshot of how he was right then. And, as I have from the time he first drew breath, I wish and desire only the best things in life for him. I’m grateful that at forty-three, he does have a multitude of all those best things. May the future continue to bless my son.

THIRTEEN YEARS TO NINETY

          

In an earlier post, I made reference to the fact that in thirteen years I will be ninety years old. I am so sorry I ever did the math for this fact because I cannot seem to keep the litany, “thirteen years to ninety” out of my head. It doesn’t repeat time after time, but every so often and way more often than I’d like, that phrase darts into my mind and gives me great pause.

          I guess I’d never really looked at how much time I may or may not have left. Yes, I get a year older with each passing year. Yes, I’m not as capable with regard to some things as I once was. Yes, I’ve been retired for eleven years. No, I hadn’t really thought about what those yeses meant. Now I have and I believe I am most sorry.

          On the other hand, perhaps it was a good wake-up call because I am being more optimistic about the future and making plans that will enhance that time. But I’m also not dwelling on the phrase that keeps popping up, but trying, and succeeding for the most part I think, to stay in the day and time that’s here right now.

          It’s not going to hurt to make some plans for the future. Making arrangements for new experiences will give me events to which I can look forward. At the same time, it’s important I look to today, to now for the immediate experience at hand.

          As my time passes and that phrase, “thirteen years to ninety” pops into my head, I’m going to beat it back, ignore it, and turn my immediate attention to whatever is happening in that moment whether it’s typing for my blog, spending time with friends, hugging, petting and playing with Kuma, just whatever can enrich my life right then. Sounds like a good plan doesn’t it???

ADVERTISING, MARKETING, FUNDRAISING

 

          Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I lie in bed and watch TV. I am amazed at the number of products I could purchase simply by calling the phone number on the screen or visiting the dot com location for the product. I swear if I were to purchase each and every product advertised, I would be the healthiest and most attractive person on the planet. I’ve also noticed that when the price is advertised, it’s usually $39.95, but wait, there’s more. You can get a second bottle free and sometimes even another product to try thrown in for free. Sometimes there’s free shipping too.

          As for Facebook, I don’t know if anyone else has noticed all the various products that can be purchased that will provide better skin, thicker hair, longer nails or other merchandise that will enhance some portion of your anatomy. It also seems like many of the products are advertised by some form of come on that invites you to see which five creams or lotions are the top ones. Again, if I were to purchase all these products, I’d undoubtedly be the best-looking old lady with luminous skin and thick hair down to my butt.

          I wonder if there was some kind of worldwide meeting where the various companies voted on how to split up the advertising location. That wouldn’t surprise me one bit.

          As long as I’m ranting about the different types of merchandise I can obtain to enhance my overall looks and health, I want to say something about all the oh so sad commercials for the various non-profits. If I were a parent with an ill and/or physically needy child, I definitely wouldn’t want to put my kid on national TV asking you to donate, “…just $19.00 each month.” And why is the figure $19.00 each month? Does that figure get more people to donate as opposed to say $15.00 or $20.00.

          There’s also the nonprofit that seeks your financial aid when it comes to all the doggies and kitties who are mistreated and in need of help. This commercial shows photos of dogs and cats in horrible circumstances. Now, I’m not saying there aren’t any animals that are mistreated like that because there definitely are. The commercial also indicates that ONLY 3,000 more doners are desperately needed IMMEDIATELY. Why 3,000 and why repeat that number over and over for months. Is no one donating? I would be more inclined to donate money if the photographs weren’t so sad.

          My final whine has to do with the various organizations to which I have donated money. Why do they have to keep sending me notification after notification requesting additional donations? And, why, if funds are so depleted, do they offer me a special gift when I return my form and a check. The gifts range from shopping bags, thermometers, plants, trees, cards, self-addressed stickers to a wide variety of other items. Wouldn’t the money spent on the “free” gifts be better spent on whatever that organization is trying to save and/or improve?

          And, okay, I know absolutely nothing about advertising, marketing or fund-raising, but these various methods implemented from for-profit as well as non-profit companies have come to annoy the hell out of me. Could you tell???

MY NONPAYING JOB

 

          Ah, I do so love these, my golden years. For example, the other day as I was driving to my river exercise class, I realized keeping myself fit is almost like having a job…just without any monetary reward. For years, I’ve attended an Enhanced Fitness class at the senior center (and you have absolutely no idea how long it took me to accept the fact I qualified for a place identified as senior) three times a week. The beginning of 2023, I added the river exercise class twice a week (for folks sixty-two and above).

          Now, I realize math isn’t my strong subject, but I am now getting up five days out of the seven to do my home exercises, eat breakfast, and leave home in order to exercise. And, yes, the last few years I had a monetarily rewarding job, I got up at 4:30 am to go to the gym, but that was different.

          Why was that different you wonder and maybe even ask. Well, I’ll tell you. When I retired, I expected to have no days with any sort of schedule. You know, just get up whenever I felt like it, laze around, eat when and what I wanted, go to bed whenever I pleased and not live my life according to any sort of schedule.

          And, okay, having this exercise schedule benefits my physical and mental well-being so that I can remain independent and intellectually sound. Still, the older I become, it seems the harder I have to work to remain that way. Seriously, I’ve stated before that calling this time of my life my “golden years” should have been called the “fool’s gold years.”

          Please don’t get me wrong when you read this whiney post. I’m extremely grateful I’m still able to drive myself to these torture, I mean exercise, classes; grateful I’m able to handle my own medical, dental and prescription needs, grateful I’m able to handle my own finances as well as live in my own home by myself (with Kuma). Still, I had really looked forward to a time when I wouldn’t have to do anything at all. I just didn’t realize that when that time came, I’d be in a bed in a storage, I mean nursing, facility.

          If anyone young is reading this, take my word for it…they, whoever they are, lie about growing older and enjoying your golden years. Don’t wait, take your golden years now while they’re still golden, and then get a job when you’ve reached the point where it is turning into fool’s gold.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

 

          When I got up today, I was shocked to find it had snowed overnight. Not a lot because the ground and grass show through. I think it’s most appropriate, at least for me, because today is Valentine’s Day and I’m feeling a bit bereft. It will be the fourth Valentine’s Day without John and some kind of recognition from/to him on the day before which is the day we first met. I’ve already written about that. I’m kind of surprised I’m feeling so sad and lonely.

          Rather than stay in bed, laze about on the couch with Kuma and feed my sorrowful feelings, I had the day I would have had regardless. The sun even shone although it didn’t warm up all that much. So, even though I didn’t feel like doing anything at all, I did my home exercise routine, had breakfast, tidied up the house and took myself to my swim exercise class.

          After class, I went to business Costco for gas and would have liked to have picked up my new glasses at the Aurora store, but only one of the two ordered pair is there. I didn’t want to make a trip for each pair. Gas tank full, I took myself down Aurora to Qdoba and ordered a Burrito made to my specifications and sat in my car and ate it…it was yummy.

          Back home, I took Kuma outside and chucked the ball until his tongue was falling out of his face. Before my exercise class, I scheduled a pedicure for 4:00 pm, so delayed my shower and shampoo until after…I don’t like the lotion they apply to my feet and legs.

In my nightie, I prepared French dips made with the flank steak I cooked on Monday. Then, before bed, I finished off the pint of Sea Salt Caramel Truffle ice cream. Kuma got his fair share of both since it is Valentine’s Day.

Have to say I am proud of myself for moving forward and having my usual Tuesday. I thought about John a lot throughout the day, but the thoughts and memories were good ones and heaven knows I have a plethora of those from which to choose.  

HARPER LADIES' LUNCH

 

          Yesterday, I wrote about friendship, probably because I was looking forward to the “Harper Ladies” lunch. This lunch is an event we began scheduling a couple of years ago. The impetus was the age of our Aunties or Moms. Aunt Elaine will be 96 this year and Auntie Phyllis was 93 last month. We all wanted more time with these funny and engaging women before it was too late.

          It’s always great to see everyone and to catch up on what’s been happening in each other’s lives and yesterday was no different. I’ve included a photo niece Mandy managed to take that includes all of us. Beginning with Mandy on the left up front and going counter-clockwise) are Aunt Phyllis, her daughter Sandi, moi, my daughter-in-law Angie, Sister Mary, Aunt Elaine, Mary's daugher Gilly and Mandy's daughter Abby.

          At our first restaurant lunch, both the Aunties ate and were ready to depart in less than an hour. Future lunches found us younger ladies stretching out the time by not ordering as quickly and lingering over and after our lunches.          

          Yesterday, some of the talk centered around what was going to happen when both the Aunties are no longer able to attend the lunches. Since Auntie Phyllis always has a glass of wine, us young’uns pledged to always have a glass of wine in her honor. For those of us driving, we might have to have longer lunches. There was also talk, as always, about health problems and/or successes. There’s a painful back, knees that are being difficult and being addressed by doctors and physical therapists, exercise efforts that we agree make us all feel better, whether one niece who has no children as of yet is taking one of the Auntie’s previous advice seriously (apparently not because she’s not yet in the family way), and lots of laughter and joking before and after lunch. Once lunch was served, it became fairly quiet…most of us were starving I think.

          There was also discussion about family members who are no longer with us. The youngest of the ladies is interested in geneology and asked questions about antecedents which we older ladies attempted to answer. She’s also interested in seeing more photos. I need to see what I have tucked away on the off-chance I have some to share.

          All in all, it was a very pleasant couple hours and we made plans to do it again in mid-April. We parted with lots of hugs, promises to keep in touch, and how happy we were to see each other.

          After I took Aunt Elaine home, I went a couple blocks down the street from the Foss Villages and joined my BFF at the neighborhood bar. It’s more of an outside venue as opposed to inside, especially when they have a band performing. Several of my BFF’s neighbors are in the band. It was chilly but very pleasant and the raspberry cider was the perfect dessert to my lunch. It also made the remainder of my afternoon very pleasant.

FRIENDSHIP

 

          Friendship. This is a word I’ve mulled over time and time again. I doubt I understand it any better now than I did in my youngest days. I do think it’s one of the most important things I can have in my life. I also have come to realize, at least for me, there are different types of friendship.

          There are friends I see frequently and with whom I share the most intimate details of my life. They are the friends I know I can count on and for whom I would do almost anything. I also think they would do almost anything for me as well. I treasure all these friendships and love the way they have been there for me during the most difficult times of my life as well as me for them. The strands of their lives are tightly woven into my life tapestry.

          There are friends I don’t see very often but because of our linkages and/or background, when I see them it’s as though we were together just the day before.  I cherish these friendships and often wish we lived closer to each other or had lives that allowed us the opportunities to see each other more often. The threads of their lives aren’t as tightly woven into my tapestry but wait for the time they’ll be taken up once again.

          There are friends I’ve had forever, their lives so tightly woven into the tapestry of my life that their value is priceless. I have but a few of these left which makes them all the more precious. I try very hard to make sure they know I think of and love them.

          There are friends who are more acquaintances than actual friends, but I care about these people as well. Whenever I see their Facebook posts, run into them when I’m out and about or we connect in some way for no reason, I’m always delighted to learn how their lives are progressing. It’s as though the fibers of their lives are loosely woven together but still make my life tapestry better.

          Then, there are the friends with whom I’ve completely lost touch for one reason or another. There never seems to be any one event that caused the friendship to cease, but it has. I miss these people but wish them well. The strands of their lives have broken and no longer add to my tapestry’s beauty.

          There are also friends that I think of as a “twofer.” They were part of my life when John was alive, but their friendship was mainly with him and they have ceased to be in contact. It’s as if when John’s thread broke, theirs did as well. Again, I miss them but wish them well.

          Finally, there are people I considered friends, and in some cases, good friends that have apparently moved on for one reason or another. I look to myself for reasons why this has happened. On my behalf, I believe I am a good friend, loving, generous, considerate, helpful, willing to assist or share however possible. Still, these people no longer inhabit my life; and while for a time, I seriously considered I was to blame for their lack of contact, I no longer do so. It was their choice, and I don’t have time to look for reasons or to apply blame. The threads of their lives have been caught up and no longer have the capability of adding to my tapestry.

          I find myself extremely fortunate in the friendships I do have and maintain. These are the women and men who add so much worth to my life that I would be, and am, bereft at each and every loss. Of course, at my age, I am looking at a tapestry nearing completion. That is all the more reason to cherish and value the remaining threads that continue to be interwoven with my own.

          If you are reading this, I urge you to reach out to your friends, both those near and far. Make that telephone call, set up that coffee, do whatever you need to do to let that person know you remember and care deeply about your friendship. Again, if you are near my age, those friendships are more important than ever.

A HINT OF SPRING

 

          Today was so amazingly spring-like. I loved, loved, loved it, and I didn’t stay inside but was outside. Of course, I began the day by attending my river exercise class. Boy, some days moving my body through that water with and against the current seems very difficult, but I persevere and feel so much better after.

          When I got home, I had lunch and then prepared all the vegetables for my stir-fry dinner. That finished, I put Kuma’s harness on and figured out a way to keep him in the front yard except for the two times he managed to shrug his way out of the harness. After the second time, I tightened the harness and Kuma was either tired from his explorations or he couldn’t shrug it off a third time.

          The first thing I did was to rearrange the wire flower cages to keep Kuma in his portion of the garden. I don’t know what I’ll do once everything starts to come up and the cages are needed to support the dahlias and lilies. I’ll have to give that some thought.

          That done, I moved to the front yard and into the sunshine. I managed to get all the Mexican wind grass cut down and a bunch of weeds pulled. What I don’t understand is where those weeds came from. I was very diligent last year about pulling up all those weeds with white flowers that turn into seeds that jump when touched. I just looked them up and it's called hairy bittercress weed. I’d swear very few of those seeds were able to proliferate, but you wouldn’t think that if you saw all the little green starts that are all over the place. I hate those things.

          The sun and breeze felt absolutely wonderful, and I ended up taking off my sweatshirt. I didn’t have my usual tank top beneath, so I wasn’t as bare as I usually am. I was grateful for the long-sleeved flannel shirt.

          Doing all this today and it getting close to Washington’s actual birthday of February 22^nd made me think of my old professor. He loved snow peas and every single year on Washington’s birthday, he planted. He dug up the soil, added compost and mixed it all together before carefully placing his seeds. I always enjoyed hearing him talk about his efforts, and the one time I saw his garden in Madison Park, I was extremely impressed.

          I won’t be planting snow peas on Washington’s birthday unless it’s another nice day like this. Even then, it probably won’t happen because I still have to clean and sterilize my planters as well as haul home bags of dirt. And I won’t do as the professor did, but simply put the seeds right into the dirt once the planter is filled. No extra prep on my part.

          Anyway it was a gorgeous day…send me more, please, please, please.

SNIPPETS

 

          Just some snippets of news for my post today, especially since I’m writing this at 5:55 pm on Wednesday and Kuma has to be at his training class at 7:00…he should graduate tonight…with honors??? I really don’t know. Anyway:

•       My granddaughter now has a job as a welder. She’ll begin on February 20^th and have to give up her two part-time jobs and take a pay cut as a result. I don’t know for who, but the company is located in South Park. Still, she’ll be working in her trade, so good for her.

·       My chat with my MD this morning resulted in my being able to continue with my river exercise class. When I began, I suffered from shin splints almost immediately and for the entire hour. The instructor suggested I get some pool shoes (who knew there was such a thing). I did and the shin splints began to improve. Now, they are usually gone after about half an hour and that might decrease as well as I continue.

·       The weather channel says it’s supposed to get up to 56 degrees tomorrow afternoon. That’s great news and I think it means I’ll be out in the garden doing several things after my river exercise.

·       One of the things I’ll be doing is re-establishing Kuma’s potty area. I thought for sure that after months of being directed to one area, he would automatically return there. My tree trimmers were here yesterday and moved all the flower cages I used to provide a barrier. Kuma’s first two trips had him going directly to one flowerbed to pee. Then, it was like, oh hey, I’ve got the whole yard for a bathroom now. And, I thought he was so smart.

·       I managed to ignore all this year's flower and garden catalogs, but Breck’s just won’t give up. They recently sent me two catalogs. One is just all kinds of lilies and the other is all kinds of hostas. I’ve gone through and picked out what I’d like to have, but have not placed an order. I don’t know if I will or not.

·       Next week is the Flower and Garden Show. I guess if I don’t purchase anything there, I may allow myself to order the lilies and hostas. Of course, I keep telling myself I’m not going to be in this house working in this garden for decades so I really shouldn’t bother, that I already have enough…but, sheesh, these are ones I don’t have and they’re lovely.  

That’s it. Time to load up my pockets with treats so Kuma will respond appropriately and make sure I have everything I need for class…out of five previous classes, I’ve only arrived fully prepared for four of them. Amazingly, I’ve managed to get Kuma to all the classes.

FRIENDS

          

So blessed by and grateful for: Friends who visit. Friends who bring me flowers. Friends who always have time for a latte. Friends who share their joy in the purchase of a wedding dress. Friends who want to read what I write. Friends who share their worries. Friends who share their accomplishments. Friends who want to have lunch. Friends who share their lives. Friends whose lives add so much to the tapestry of my own life. Thank you, one and all, for making my life richer with your love, experiences, and most of all, your sharing with me your daily lives. I’m a very wealthy individual thanks to y’all.

MY EARLY VALENTINE

 

         

In six more days, it will be 58 years since John and I first met. We decided we were each other’s Valentine even though we didn’t do cards or candy that first Valentine’s Day. I did my usual grocery shopping today and there were all kinds of stuff that could be purchased as a Valentine gift for your honey. Me, myself and I debated as to which of us should be the Valentine this year and receive the gift and which of us should be the gifter. The final decision was to not purchase any of the items for any of us…sweet stuff just doesn’t appeal.

          I find it rather amazing that we met on February 13^th (58 years ago) married on August 13^th (57 years ago) and John died on August 12^th (3.5 years ago). It all seems sort of preordained somehow. I find myself wondering what the numbers will be when it’s time for me to join John wherever he is now.

Of course, I’m thinking about John all those years ago and how the attraction was immediate. I’d never felt that way about any boy/man in my entire life. Even the boy I went steady with for two years didn’t have that effect on me. Amazingly, that attraction never really left either one of us although there were times and events that certainly muted the feelings. As a matter of fact, those last few years were so hard, the loving feeling disappeared and didn’t return, at least for me, until John had been gone for over a year. Amazing how I can look back now and see what a bitch I was and what a real prick he was during that time. That’s when I wish I’d been kinder and much more patient with both of us.

You know how it is though, you don’t get a do-over. What’s done is done and cannot be changed. Today, looking back what I’m remembering is arriving at my friend’s house dressed in a blue skirt topped by a blue and white sweater. Of course, I was wearing a girdle and nylons…that was the dress code then.  When I stepped inside the door, I had to bend over to keep the dog from snagging my nylons. John was across the room and my view of him began with his shiny loafers, moved up khaki pants with a sharp crease, a thin belt and a short-sleeved, fresh from the cleaners, shirt. His brown hair was neatly combed, his face freshly shaved and his lips curved in a wonderful smile.

When I finally stood, our eyes met and there seemed to be a current that connected us. For me, it was love at first sight. I’m so very thankful we shared so many February 13^ths. Me, myself and I will raise a glass to our early Valentine come next Monday.

IT FINALLY ARRIVED

 

          Xander’s Christmas present finally arrived on February 2^nd, exactly two months from when it was ordered on December 2^nd. I was rather appalled at the flimsy product which weighed barely anything. I was able to turn it on, but didn’t try to make it fly. I also plugged it into the USB port so it would be fully charged and ready for Xander to play.

          Since Xander had had to wait so long for his Christmas present, I decided to make his receipt of the gift a bit more fun than just putting it into a bag with some tissue paper. First, I wrapped the box in which it arrived (surprised it hadn’t broken) in shiny paper. I put that box into another box, gift wrapped that and so on. I think all told I gift wrapped a total of five or six boxes each nestled in the previous one. I put a big ribbon around the last box and pasted all the Christmas bows I had on hand to the top. I’ve included a photo of the final box with Xander sitting beside it. He was surprised his gift was so big.

          At about the third box Xander wanted to know if I was tricking him to which I replied, “You had to wait so long for your present, Nana wanted you getting it to be very special.” When he finally got to the last box, even though he’d wanted to purchase it with Christmas money he’d received, he wasn’t sure what it was. Dad had to read the instructions and for a short time (a few minutes), the flare sphere worked pretty well. All the lights lit up, the little fans whirred and it floated about the room. Success.

          That success was short-lived. First the lights stopped working. Xander thought perhaps it needed to be plugged in again and went to do so. I left after a while and it hadn’t returned to working as it had initially.

          Today I sent Thor a text, “Is Xander’s toy still working?”

          “Yes and no. The light strip came unglued and we tried to glue it back. It came off again and got cut in half by the blades. Now it shocks you when it’s going.”

          “Yikes…a dangerous toy. Wish it was better after waiting for so long. Damn, damn, damn.”

          “It’s more fun now, ha ha.”

          “For you or for Xander?”

          “Me.”

          So, after all that, the Christmas gift was a bust. Oh well, at least Xander had fun opening all those packages, and Nana had fun wrapping and watching. Also included below is a not very well done video of Xander's first try with the flare sphere.

TO RIDE THE TRAIN

 

Dinae was a 15-year-old virgin. She never knew why they chose her to terrorize. She didn’t wear makeup, kept her long wavy hair pulled back into a clip at the base of her neck and wore baggy clothes that weren’t particularly fashionable. In the classrooms, she didn’t participate except when the teacher called on her, and then she kept her answers brief. She kept to herself and didn’t attempt to make friends…friendliness could be dangerous.

All Dinae wanted was to obtain a diploma from the loathsome high school she was forced to attend without getting caught up in one of the gangs or resort to drugs in order to get by the way her mother had not that many years ago. Dinae wanted a future far away from the disgusting neighborhood and dreadful people. So, she tried very hard to not stand out, tried to simply fade into the background.

Still, the scariest gang leader chose her. He bumped into her one morning on the way to class, and with the help of a couple of his members, pushed her against the lockers. He stank of cigarette and dope smoke, sweat and something sweet Dinea couldn’t identify. She wanted to gag as he rubbed his erection against her, squeezed one of her breasts and whispered in her ear, “Hey bitch, know you’s a virgin. Gonna pop that sweet cherry of yours. Oh, yes’m I shorely am. Bitch you gonna be our train ride.”

          For the rest of the week, every time the leader or one of the gang members saw her, they would grab their crotch with one hand, try to touch her with the other and tell her what they planned to do and how much they’d enjoy it just as soon as they got a chance. After the first couple of days, her breasts and nipples were so bruised and sore, Dinae took to carrying her backpack in her arms in front of her chest so they were protected.

          There was nothing she could really do about what was happening to her. The gangs, especially the one that was terrifying her, pretty much ran the school. Most of the staff weren’t very good and were justly afraid of the students they had to face each day. Dinae was sure they’d all stop working in that school if they had an actual choice.  Her mother wouldn’t be any help either because she’d given up years ago. She’d probably advise Dinae to just lay back and let it happen. Her only respite was to attempt to stay in crowded places as much as possible. Still, she knew that sooner or later, they’d find a way to get to her.

          After more than a week of intimidating, bullying, and terrifying her, the leader managed to cause a ruckus in the school hallway. He did it fairly close to a teacher, and in such a way that it appeared as though it was Dinae’s fault. As the teacher talked to her about her behavior and handed her a detention slip, he and his gang stood behind the teacher, silently laughing, grabbing their crotches, blowing kisses and sticking out their tongues.

          It was almost dusk when Dinae’s detention was completed. She hesitated at the exit doors. She looked around as carefully as was possible before she left the school and began to walk quickly toward home. She hadn’t gotten far before she was surrounded by five gang members. Her arms were grabbed and they hustled her down the street and across the asphalt playground toward an old empty portable. Halfway there, the leader said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Can’t wait to throw you down, rip them panties off and stuff my cock up your cunt.  When I’m done, you’re gonna pull train for the rest. Ya know what that is don’t ya? Getting’ fucked by each a us.” The other four laughed and made nasty comments about who would fuck her when.

          There was nothing she could do except go along and keep a tight hold on her backpack.  At least that protected her breasts from the hands that seemed to be all over the rest of her body. Once inside, and the door was closed, Dinae was released and she moved backwards until she felt the wall. The five boys formed a semi-circle around her.

          “Drop the backpack and git on the floor.” The leader ordered as he began to undo his pants. His erection popped free and he moved toward her with it in his hand. The others laughed, grabbed their own crotches, and encouraged him to hurry and take care of bidness.

          Dinae stood up straight, the hard wall against her back a comfort. “I said git down on the fuckin’ floor bitch. Do it or I’ll throw you down.”

He reached out to grab her backpack but halted mid-stride. There was a look of incredulity on his face. A red stain blossomed on his chest. As he fell to the floor, Dinae allowed her backpack to fall as well. In her hand was the gun it had concealed and with which she’d just shot her chief tormentor.

          The gunshot was followed by silence until Dinae’s quiet voice said, “Okay, who’s next?”

EXCUSES, EXCUSES

 

          There hasn’t been a blog post for a few days mainly because I wasn’t feeling very creative as in why would anyone want to read what I’m writing about anyway. My life is all so normal and ordinary, I just don’t see how it would be of interest to many folks at all.

          I’ve also been reading the first book I ever wrote back in the mid-90s. I was taking a class then and came up with the idea of a woman running for president and winning. It was called, THE CRADLE PARTY.

          At the time, I also attended the Pacific Northwest Writer’s Conference every year. The year I began this book, I made an appointment with both an agent and an editor. I put together a one-page synopsis of my book and was absolutely delighted to find the agent wanted to see the whole book which wasn’t finished. Important lesson learned, i.e., never submit a project until it’s completely finished.

          I labored for nine long months to bring this novel to fruition. Along the way I discovered some of my creations had minds, ideas and goals of their own which necessitated my changing mine. Unfortunately, when THE CRADLE PARTY was finished, the agent was no longer interested.

          The novel went to sleep in my bookcase. About ten years later, a group of women with whom I worked and book-clubbed wanted to read my novel. It was passed around and the general consensus was that I should update the novel and shop it around. My friends even went so far as to type my updated chapters for me because my carpel tunnel was so bad.

          Finished once again, I tried shopping it around and found no takers. Once again it went to languish in my bookcase. I've made jokes about how once I'm gone and the kids are cleaning up after me the AJ or Thor will say to the other, "Hey, here's mom's book. Did you ever read it?" This would be followed by the other one saying, "Nope, never did." which in turn would be followed by a "THUNK!!!" as it hit the dumpster.

         A friend who lives east of the mountains asked to read it a while ago. It took me some time, but I finally pulled it out and decided I would re-read it before I sent it off because I wasn’t going to have her send it back. It’s my only copy and what was computerized was on floppy discs which my computer will no longer read, not to mention the fact I think the program is WordPerfect which no longer exists either.

          I’m half-way through those five hundred plus pages and find myself thinking I did a fairly good job when it came to writing that novel. Unfortunately, so many of the “new” things in the book are no longer new but common every-day things like email and cell phones. I’m not sure I could update the entire novel and have it make total sense, besides which, we now have more women in office than ever before plus we’ve even had a woman run for president.

          There is supposedly a way to publish yourself through Amazon. Once my friend returns this book, maybe I’ll give an update a try. I have now written four books and it would be very pleasant to find a way to publish at least one of them. Perhaps I should stop spending hours reading other authors’ work and look to working on my own.

          Meanwhile, tomorrow’s post will be a short story I wrote for a contest. The main requirement was to submit something no longer than than fifteen hundred words. Mine was less than a thousand and I didn’t win. Still, I thought what I wrote, while rather depraved, was still well-written. What will you think tomorrow, I wonder.