Chore Girl

Isn't it funny that on Friday afternoon before a holiday, everyone is excited about the long weekend and leaves early?  We go home, shake off the work vibe, and start doing chores.  We use our holidays and home vacations to work around the house: painting, building decks, fixing doors, replacing screens, filters, gutters, filling bird feeders and refinishing furniture.  This is not a vacation nor a holiday.  I have truly lost my ability to just chill.  I can't swing on the swing, or just nap, or lounge around in my muu muu because I am motivated by what I can accomplish.  

Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction

I had a great idea for a piece of fiction: An unpopular President leaves office, rides off into the sunset to farm switch grass. His VP, a disgruntled man with acid reflux bucks both tradition and protocol refusing to relinquish his Vice President role and continues to campaign for his administrations policies in the the public arena. He is convicted of poor judgment and bad taste and is sent to Guantanamo Bay where he disarms a guard and shoots his friend in the face. Probably wouldn't read well as there's no sex.

Doggy Style

Oy Vey! The beagle is sleeping through the night, but like most elderly beings, she has to get up frequently to pee during the night. I can sleep through major storms, alien invasions and appliance malfunctions, but I can hear a dog yawn. Once Edith's paws hit the floor with purpose, I have to get up and supervise her, or she will leave me a present in the dining room if you know what I mean. It is pretty clear she is not potty or otherwise trained. Her saving Grace is that she is smart. We are getting used to Thelma not being around anymore. But around here there isn't much time for quiet reflection. Someone needs meds, a walk, a snuggle, water or to stop annoying the cat. It is anything but quiet, but I have to tell you, I wouldn't have it any other way.

A Very Sad Story

Everyday is a wild card. I suppose it is the unpredictability of each day that keeps us from getting over confident or from operating under the very incorrect assumption that we are in control. As always, I had made sure the gates were closed to prevent the dogs from getting out and that the doors to the house were closed so the cat didn't venture out. It is a beautiful day, so I was outside putzing around trying to figure out which of my wildflowers were weeds. I was on the phone visiting with my friend, and as I meandered by the pool, there was Thelma, my 19 year old schnauzer poodle, at the bottom of the shallow end, not moving. It was horrible. I jumped in immediately and grabbed her, but clearly, it was too late. She had fallen in and was too old, too tired and too sick to figure out how to undo the mistake that would cost her life. I had planned a hundred times how to make the call to our vet to arrange to have her put to sleep when it was clear she was in pain or disinterested in food. That clearly was not the plan. It felt so awful to hold my little office and car companion's lifeless body in my arms and not know how to erase the mistake. I never heard her fall in or saw her wander too close to the pool so I could redirect her. As with all of the pets, I am hyper vigilant and have always tried hard to keep them safe and healthy. The strange part was that Thelma had walked around that pool a hundred times. I didn't know that today would be our last day together in the yard. I am very sad about little Thelma and very sorry I wasn't there to save her.

T-I-R-E-D

What a week. I totally get how couch potatoes are born. I usually am not interested in sitting or being a spectator, but tonight, I feel as though I could sleep standing up. I remember a year or so ago, I had gone on a home enrollment visit for a child in our after school program and while sitting there trying to get through the paperwork, the dad couldn't keep his eyes open. I couldn't believe anyone could be so tired that they couldn't stay alert long enough to complete a 3 page enrollment form that I actually fill out; they just answer the questions. But after this week, I understand. There is a limit to how much psychic energy you can generate on any given day. But it is the weekend and I can refuel!! Right after I walk the dogs, mow the yard, work in the front flower beds, wash the car, get the oil changed, run to Home Depot and write those thank you notes. I guess I will sleep at the home.

Strange Days Stranger Nights

Sometimes I feel like I am living in an episode of Taxi. Just when I think it can't get any stranger, it does. Here I am working in an office that has huge holes in the drywall from the "flood," Edith the foundling geriatric beagle and Thelma the geriatric mutt are snuggled together on their snoozy,while Edith's snores drown out the hum of the space heater. I witnessed a white hot melt down of a co-worker today and there is a mouse that lives in my car. Paul Simon once sang: "I don't want to end up a cartoon in a cartoon grave yard." YabaDabaDoo

Sprint- To Nowhere

After I got into my car and reached for my phone, I realized something was wrong. The screen was white and I could not get the regular screen to pop up even after I turned it off and on repeatedly. I tried for most of the day to get the phone to work, gave in and went to the Sprint store. That place is a circus. The staff must work for popcorn and ride tokens. There were customers everywhere- 19 on the "whose next in line" screen and 4 employees. One flirting with a woman who stood there for 35 minutes and left with nothing. I hope he got her phone number. One staffer went on break and one although obstensibly working, was doing some sports bonding with his buddy who had dropped by to hang out and shoot the breeze about some sports team. No one was the least bit concerned that all these people were standing there in retail pergatory waiting for some clown in a Sprint shirt to tell you they can't repair your phone, but for $100.00 you can get an insurance policy and get a new phone for free. What a racket. I was in that store for almost an hour and 10 minutes and they had to "order" my part. I am convinced they had pallets of my part in back.

Five Birds and A Beagle

Being human is an awesome responsibility.  As I have gotten older I have begun to see myself as a steward of the part of the Eco system I occupy and I am committed to it.  On Saturday after I returned home from my journey to Wichita, I discovered a dead Magnolia Warbler, her injured mate and their flimsy, poorly constructed nest, with three tiny, featherless, nestlings with labored breathing on the ground underneath the conifer where the nest was located.  Of course, I tried to get the babies back in an empty neighboring nest, but am certain my efforts to save the tiny birds  were unsuccessful.  So Monday morning, apparently still in the "animal zone,"  I left the house for an appointment and as I am approaching my destination, I saw a bewildered Beagle trying to cross a very busy and large street by herself.  She got confused and turned around, I started honking hoping she would go back to the sidewalk but she didn't, so I stopped the car, turned on the flashers, and went to pick up the very fat beagle.  She smelled horrible.  I put her in the back seat with Thelma, who seemed annoyed, but non-plussed by the appearance of the smelly interloper.  I waited in the car for my appointment, and she was a no-show, so I took the dogs back home.  The Beagle is very docile, sweet and elderly.  Her muzzle and eyebrows are gray, her nails long, she has a whole crop of warts and her eyes are cloudy.  I gave her a big bath while I waited for the vet's office to open but she still smelled. It is now seven  hours since I dropped "Edith" off.  I did talk to the vet, and although she has some minor problems, she is not doing badly for a neglected, unchipped and collarless dog.  I think we may need a companion dog for Thelma here at the office....

We're Not in Kansas Anymore (Part 1)

On Thursday, I drove six hours and 15 minutes to Wichita to celebrate my mother's 75th birthday. Once I reached the turnpike and started the journey through the Flint Hills, I felt so comforted by the familiar sight of deep fissures spreading dry brown fingers over the verdant swelling landscape dotted with Angus cows lolling about. I have talked with many travelers who report passing through Kansas and found it tedious and boring. I felt anything but bored; I love driving through Kansas. The air is clean and the skies seem bluer. The people are genuine and friendly. Wichita has grown and has spread East. I was shocked to see all of the development and retail where it used to be field. I remember other native Wichitans complaining about all that we didn't have, and now, it looks much like any other Midwest city with its PF Chang's and Gap stores. I liked it the way it was before.

Insomnia

What does it mean when you can't sleep? I am tired and it is bedtime. Actually, it's past bedtime. Sometimes when I can't sleep, I mentally re-write favorite childhood fairy tales, but I can't do that anymore as I have re-worked the biggies many times: Snow White, Jack and the Beanstalk and Cinderella. In my sleepless version Jack and his momma live in the projects and he traded her big screen TV for some magic seeds. I am not one of those people who can get out of bed, and transfer my worries or my ever growing To Do list to paper and hop back into bed into the arms of Morpheus. Once I start the mental gymnastics, I am a goner. I've planned entire menus, worked out project details, re-designed the garden and mentally organized closets. Note that I said mentally organized closets. I know bedtime is the time to release the day and slide into sleep, but that isn't going so well. Thank goodness the cat is nocturnal too.

It's JUST Paint!

A little history for those of you who don't know me: I have never been afraid of a little color. Actually, a lot of color. I like bold colors in rooms of all sizes. My friends teased me and always had a funny story or two about a room in my house that was pink or apple green room so I went against my true nature and decided to tone it down. I went with colors like "fern mist" and sun spot creme and watery, vague colors and yet, have always felt like those colors weren't really me. So today, I went whole hog and picked out a rich, deep, wine color called vintage claret. I am so excited! I had a room-mate once who commented about my orange bathroom: "Charmaine, orange is the color of insanity." Well, that may be, but it's hard to feel melancholy in an orange or lime green room.

I Am All A-Twitter!

Tweet-tweet!  Twitter is the subject of many conversations I have been privy to lately.  Are you Twittering?  I love Twittering.  My favorite part is being concise enough to get your thought into 140 characters.  A challenge that many would not be able to meet.  Brevity is the foe of many but admired by most.  The people I enjoy following the most are Ellen, Paula Poundstone and a little rocker/composer who lives in NYC, Laura Meyer.  She is very positive and perky.  I like that in my coffee too.  This middle aged broad is learning some new tricks!  Facebook, Twitter, texting and Skypeing.  All of these modes of communication don't do much for our interpersonal skills, but our writing skills should be improving don't you think?  

Young and The Restless

Tolerance requires patience and acceptance don't you think?  I was at a half-day conference full to capacity today and about 45 minutes into it, a woman squeezes down the isle and settles into the vacant seat next to me.  She was well prepared:  she had her blue tooth, her Blackberry, cheese danish, bagel, coffee and juice over ice.  In the next two hours she crunched ice, typed into her Blackberry with the long, glamorous nails that made an annoying click-a, click-a, click as she typed what I am sure was an urgent message.  She chomped and smacked on her danish and smeared cream cheese on her bagel and gnawed that into pulp.  She opened and closed her handbag and rustled peppermint paper and laughed at all of the Doctor's really bad jokes.  Part of the problem was that the information really required that I focused and listened and those who know me know how easily I am distracted and truthfully, YES, sometimes I am her.  When required to sit for long periods of time, I am restless, dis-engaged and not aware of how my fidgeting is impacting the others around me.  I could not move because the conference was packed and all of the seats were taken.  People were standing up on the back.  So I figured this was an lesson courtesy of the Universe and an opportunity to practice patience and to reflect on my own fidgeting and how very annoying it is.