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?”