Sunday was the day I finally broke down and decided waiting to call the groomer to schedule an appointment for Killian to get a MUCH needed trim, was going nowhere. There are just too many things on the agenda to worry about a haircut and pretty "doggie doo." Still, Killian was shaggy and her hair was in her eyes and she just HAD to be hot in all that fur.... So.... I unearthed my old clippers, put Killian on her leash and proceeded to the driveway where, perched comfortably on a couple of pallets, I performed my best impersonation of a dog groomer.
Shaggy Killian
On the plus side, my "client" was extremely patient. She must have known instinctively that I am a hack and that sitting still was really her best option. She never whined once during the entire LONG process. I believe my clippers, likely the "best buy" when I purchased them a dozen years ago, are not the highest quality, nor the sharpest. Still, layer by layer, I unearthed my dog.
Do REAL groomers do it this way???
During the hour or so I took to accomplish my goal, Benson, jealousy personified, kept a close eye on the attention Killian was receiving. He was so jealous he simply could not stand it. He actually started walking directly between the groomer and her client! I thought I'd scare him a little by giving him a little "shave." I ran the clippers down the middle of his back, and.... he loved it! What a nut!
Jealous Cat
Benson WANTS attention!
We had to take a break about halfway through. Killian needed a bio break and the clippers were really getting hot! So, off we went to stroll down the driveway and to take an opportunity to look at the newly opened and soon to open sunflowers that continue to treat us daily. Newcomers were the lemony, dainty one and the bolder bright yellow twins....and several were holding tight, requiring us to return tomorrow for the rest of the show!
Dainty
Sunny Twins
Tomorrow's Promise
By the time we finished the "trim", the nearly full moon had risen and it was time for all of the animals to eat and hit the sack for the night. Killian did not look nearly as good as she does when in the hands of the pros, but she didn't seem to notice. She was eating happily, I suspect, dreaming of Monday which was to bring the beginning of the next change to our little place.
August Moon
Well, she's trimmed, at least!
Monday morning the wood was delivered for the deck we are having built. It is a modest deck which will provide a second exit from our garage apartment. Safety would seem to mandate a second exit for use in the event of fire, but this place has only the long, steep stairs from inside the garage. We bought an emergency escape ladder that can be tossed out the window and used to escape a burning building, but it looks so....umm...SCARY! I think the deck addition and changing the window to a door will be MUCH more reassuring!
Now, everyone knows how kids LOVE to play with the cool equipment. And sure enough, when I took a break from work, going downstairs to see the "action" (when the wood was being delivered) I was able to snap a couple of pictures of the "kids" at play! Of course, there is a ton of work involved in this new deck, not the least of which is creating more driveway. The deck will dual purpose as a carport, so we need a good solid driving and parking surface up to and under it. Joe has spent the past few days spreading the road dirt. Next will be the gravel.
Joe playing
Today was the delivery and spreading of more road dirt, and the start of the deck construction.
Making new roads
Deck posts are in....
Change... we want it, we fear it, we anticipate it, we embrace it...and things change a little more.
I read a blog post the other day and commented on that post. The subject was "fitting in," something we are taught to do even before our parents realize they are teaching us (and then are chastised for when, in our teen years, we are challenged to "think for yourself! If Sid jumped off a bridge, would you do it too???") But I digress. The post I was reading was about the fact the author had never really "fit in," but was OK with that, because she was OK with who she is. I responded to her post, reminded of my earliest memories of being expected to "fit in."
We had just returned from living abroad in Cyprus. I was five and had completed two years of school in the British school system there. My friends were all Greek and spoke Greek. My teachers and parents spoke English. We were taught in English. When we returned to the States, I was to attend public school, the same as my sister, one year older, or so my mother, then expecting her sixth child, had hoped. I recall going to the school with my mother and sister, and being encouraged to play with the other children who were enjoying recess. I recall the "adults" being concerned that I spoke Greek to the children and would need to "acclimate" to living in the United States before starting school. At the time there was no kindergarten, and I think it was just easier to tell my parents I needed to wait to start school. Still, in MY young memory, it was because I didn't "fit in" that I had to sit out of school for a whole year!
Days in Cyprus...Jeannie and Judy
with landlord's kids Andrea and Vasso (sp)
This morning I read Sharon's post about how she accidentally became a silver spoon collector. OF COURSE, this triggered another memory, and the two, the silver spoons and the "fitting in" together brought to my mind the image of my step grandmother, Evy. Now, to understand, you must envision my natural maternal grandparents, Grandad and Granther. Both were, in my young memory, lovely, caring people, who had raised one daughter, who had borne them six grandchildren. We were their only grandchilren and they doted on us. I suppose reality was that they were very comfortable in their own relationship, and lived just far enough away (about an hour's drive) that "special treats" for us included being invited to stay overnight in their Arlington, VA home. I will never forget the rich green color of the walls of the basement room with the guest bed. So cozy, comfortable and warm.
But when, at age 56 (I think) my grandmother passed away from cancer, I, then six years old, lost the only "Granther" I would ever know. Grandad literally went into seclusion for a year, his grief over losing his beloved Ruth fueling his compulsion to write about their years together. He published his work under the title, "The Golden Years" and printed just enough copies for the family. I still have mine today.
Family Photo --
Granther at back Right -- Judy -- only one with glasses
With the completion of his tribute to Granther, he was, again, living more of a normal life. He'd never stopped working or going to church during that year, but otherwise, he'd had his singular focus of writing. Now he was interacting with people again, and before long met and married my step grandmother...Evelyn.
Evelyn was a lovely lady in her own right, from a large family in Oklahoma, some 12 years younger than Grandad, never married, living with her sister Thelma and working in DC. She was very different from my Granther, who was the most "natural" person I remember, allowing her age to be witnessed in the natural changing of the color of her hair and the accumulation of wrinkles in her skin, no trinkets or such to draw the eye away from the beauty of her eyes and smile. "Evy" as only we six grandkids were instructed to call her, carefully and dutifully had her hair colored dark brown, the color of her youthful mane, and pampered her skin with lotions to battle nature's "lines." She wore carefully applied make-up and dressed in more colorful clothing, with skirts maybe a bit short for a woman her age.
Evy was one of 11 children, but had never had any herself. I truly believe she LOVED the IDEA of grandchildren, but always felt she didn't exactly "fit in." As a child, I recall her bursting into tears because she did not get what she wanted for Christmas....I don't even recall the gift, but it was, in her eyes, an indication that she was not cherished the way our Granther had been. As children, we thought it odd for an adult to act in what we perceived as a "spoiled child" way, but we DID try to make her happy...make her FEEL as if she fit in and was loved.
One day my brothers, digging in the back yard, discovered an old, dirty, bent spoon. Ray, then maybe seven years old, the only grandchild who had really never known Granther, saw the spoon and immediately thought of Evy. Evy had one of those spoon collections hanging on the wall. You know the ones, the little cute spoons from different states and countries, each bearing their emblem testifying to the authenticity of your claim to having traveled to that particular corner of the world. Still, to Ray, a spoon was a spoon was a spoon... and a spoon discovered in the backyard, under the ground, was clearly a TREASURE spoon. And so, with great care and love, he washed the spoon and wrapped it for Evy...I don't recall whether it was a birthday or a Christmas gift, but I DO recall her reaction. She did NOT fall all over herself, thanking the little guy for his gift. She stared at the spoon, clearly making NO connection between her spoon collection and this bent, "dirty" spoon she had just been gifted, and tried to smile. But the smile was forced and I could see the tears welling up in the eyes. In her mind, she had just been gifted "junk" and it served as further testament to her contention she would never "fit in."
Of course, we all grew up and everyone, no matter how old or young, eventually "fits in" somewhere, somehow. It rarely happens by trying, and sometimes we are trying so hard to fit in where we simply don't fit that we fail to recognize we already DO fit in...where it really matters.
So last night, even before I read Sharon's post this morning, I was thinking about the "fitting in" post as I marveled (again) at the beauty that is the country early evening sky. The moon, not yet full but showing off for all he was worth, demanded being photographed. Joe was snapping away while I stood and admired, holding Killian on her leash on our way back into the garage from her day spent down by the "creek." Joe noted his batteries were running low, so I grabbed my camera and started taking shots as well. My photography efforts were being thwarted by my ever-busy-fourteen-and-half-year-old dog, who insisted on pulling on the leash to sniff the NEXT mole hole, JUST as I was trying to snap the picture. Despite her efforts, I DID finally get a decent shot or two. And I thought, even as the mosquitoes were feasting on my blood and trying their best to run me off, and even as Killian was anxious to explore, never satisfied with the here and now, but determined to see what else is around, even with all of the work we have ahead of us with this old farmhouse and property, I thought, I fit in here...I really do.
I read Geri's blog post today and was immediately thrown back more than twenty-five years to when my son was about three years old. (Thank you Geri)
My son and daughter spent their days at "Mamaw's House" while their father and I worked. This meant, usually, three to four days per week they played with three other children whose parents also employed Mamaw to provide childcare. The setting was comfortable, non-institutional, and provided them daily experiences similar to what they would have experienced had I been able to be a stay-at-home mom. They played in the backyard, ate breakfast and lunch, took naps, learned to color, count and read, learned to care for the pets (two schnauzers), learned to share, and learned that every afternoon the toy room chores had to be completed before Mom or Dad arrived to pick them up...all toys had to be returned to the BIG BOX.
When I opened the gate to the backyard, it was not unusual to be greeted with, "Guess WHAT MOMMY!!!!"
I dunno about you, but I could NEVER "Guess" what the little minds had fathomed or in what silliness they had engaged. I could ALWAYS tell when Kool-Aid had been part of the lunch or snack, as the level of exuberance was always elevated on those days.
It was on just such a Kool-Aid day that I reached Mamaw's House and was greeted with
"Guess WHAT MOMMY!!!!"
"What, Stephen?"
"Mommy!!! I want to be a TRASH MAN when I grow up!!"
"Sure Stephen, you want to drive the truck?"
" NOOOOOOOO!!!! I want to RIDE ON THE BACK!!!"
"Yeah," I thought, "it's been the dream of many in every generation, I'm sure.... then they go to kindergarten and get all 'informed' about the 'good jobs.'"
Not yet Three...Pondering Life
with the EVER Present Blankie!
Sure enough, at about age 10, no Kool-Aid in his belly, but fired up with enthusiasm from his field trip to Jamestown, VA, I was greeted with, "GUESS WHAT MOM!!!!"
"Mom, I KNOW what I want to be when I grow up!!!"
(Really? Not a TRASH MAN?) "What, Stephen?"
"I want to be 1/2 time a computer programmer (guess what MOM did for a living) and 1/2 time a GLASS BLOWER."
"OK, Stephen, sounds GREAT!!!"
Age 9 or 10...Just won this Tigger at the
company picnic and DETERMINED
to save it for HIS little boy
Now, lest you think I am under some delusion that MY children are UNIQUE on this matter, let me assure, I KNOW they are not. I cite, for example, my best friend's daughter who, at age 8 or 9, came bounding up the stairs from my basement where she and my daughter had been "playing", crying her eyes out.
"What's wrong Dee Dee?"
"Jennifer says JOCKIES only earn $1 per YEAR!!!"
"ummmmm....Jennifer? I don't think she knows what jockies earn." (as I scowled at my evil daughter!)
Clearly, Dee Dee had her heart set on being a jockey when she grew up. And my daughter had upset her royally, when she implied she was going to make NO money in her chosen profession!
Nevertheless, MY son was sure of his future and only changed his mind once or twice thereafter..... At 12 years old and pondering the future, he announced he'd decided where he wanted to go to college, I was hesitant to ask...but I did....
"Either YALE or FLORIDA STATE!!!!"
"ummmm OK, I know I'm an FSU grad (GO NOLES!!!!), but.. WHY those two choices?"
"Well, YALE is a good school, but very expensive, and FLORIDA STATE has a GREAT MARCHING BAND!!!"
Age 15, Marching His Way to FSU???
Suffice to say, LIFE stepped in and helped change a little boy's aspirations. He is now 29 years old, married to a wonderful woman, does AutoCAD work for a surveying company, lives about an hour from me, performs in local community theater productions, and sings in his church choir and the Virginia Choral Society.
Senior Prom...Almost 18
Age 29 -- On stage last weekend -- BYE BYE BIRDIE
Does he even remember those early aspirations? Well, I guess I'll ask him... I mean, Geri remembers HER early desire to RIDE THE GARBAGE TRUCK!!!
So yesterday I returned to the surgeon for number three follow up since my June surgery. My last two follow up appointments I was seen by one of his associates, rather than the surgeon himself. This time I would see the surgeon. When I arrived, twenty minutes early for my 2:40 PM appointment, the front desk lady informed me that the doctor was running 45 minutes to an hour behind. No problem, I had my Blackberry with me and could do some work while I waited.
Follow-up Number 1
The first hour came and went and several patients were called back to be seen, but not I. At about 4:15PM the front desk lady called me up to ask if I'd prefer to see the associate.
Follow-up Number 2
No, I would be patient and wait, as would another woman who had seated herself right next to me. I guess she decided that my stating I'd wait to see the surgeon was invitation for her to engage me in conversation about the surgeon.
For the next 45 minutes I was entertained by this woman who was a long time "fan" of this "best orthopedic surgeon around." I heard the stories of ALL her surgeries from the both knees to the both shoulders, to the back surgeries. I heard about the other "not so good" surgeon that her daughter saw and who misdiagnosed her ... and how Mom INSISTED the daughter come to see Best Surgeon who performed the same tests and found the LIFE threatening tumor that was causing the daughter's pain.... suffice to say, by the time they appeared in the doorway and called my name, I had a strong urge to tell the doctor his number one fan was in the waiting room. (I didn't)
While I found her entertaining, it did not escape me that she was one of these folks who has "done everything," and "lived to tell the story." One of the stories that struck me as particularly strange was prompted by her cell phone ringing. She took the call (assuring the caller she would try to make the funeral at 6PM but the doctor was running late). When she finished the call, she apologized for the ringing phone, assured she had now set the phone to silent mode....and she felt compelled to tell me that she'd had the ringer turned up because she had trouble hearing it when she was driving the car.
I don't know why I even responded, but I did, with, "I try not to answer my phone while I'm driving," to which she immediately responded, "Oh that doesn't bother me! I'm a fabulous multitasker! When my son was a baby, I used to drive the car, eating a hamburger, drinking a soda and NURSING my son....WHILE I drove....I drove thirty years for a living (school bus driver) and am a VERY GOOD driver.....talking on the cell phone while I drive is not a problem for me!"
Obviously, I had no comeback to this... She explained that her son is in his mid 30's so she's been multi-tasking while driving for a LONG time. Of course, two or three of the surgeries she had just explained (in nauseating detail) were the result of vehicular accidents, but I didn't want to push THAT rope. And my mind was suddenly possessed by this woman, stuffing her face, nursing her baby and DRIVING in traffic. Maybe it's just me, but that doesn't sound like talent -- it sounds like irresponsibility.... still she is clearly PROUD of this "talent."
At 5PM they called me back to see the surgeon. I was happy to go, as this overly friendly woman had reminded me of why I rarely engage strangers in conversation. Those who are "comfortable" talking to me, a complete stranger, are, more often than not, very self absorbed and seem oblivious to the possibility that others might not share their viewpoints. They share them in a loud tone, as if to gather an audience.
I saw the surgeon, and I chatted with him a while...I know why he is always behind...he is absolutely willing to take time with his patients. He liked my progress, concluded I need to continue with the physical therapy, prescribed a new topical anti-inflammatory, told me he wanted to see me in four weeks, and off I went. I can only imagine his last patient of the evening would keep him a long while....she told me she was seeing him as a follow up for her knee, but that her elbow was now giving her problems and she was going to ask him about that....
More PT
As I drove the hour home from the appointment, I couldn't shake that vision of the mother eating, nursing and driving.... and I realized what REALLY bothered me about it. We are spending bazillion tax dollars writing and passing laws to prohibit TEXTING while driving, when we already have on the books the laws against distracted drivers. Texting while driving is just another example of distraction, as is talking on the cell phone.
When we were driving to see my daughter in Madison, VA a few weeks ago, we actually witnessed a driver, in the fast lane, driving with his feet while he texted away....no he was not maintaining his speed, yes he was holding up faster traffic..... and I'll just BET he was one of those self described "GREAT drivers" and "GREAT multi-taskers." I would have to beg to differ, and though I did not see the woman from the doctor's waiting room actually driving, I'm thinking I'm REALLY glad I was long gone before she got out of her appointment, and dashed off to make that funeral....
Highway Home (taken a month ago...not by me while driving!)
And I arrived home safely, happy I had no encounters with seriously distracted drivers! There IS a reason I prefer the quiet country roads to those traffic congested roads where everything is within a stone's throw....
A couple of weeks ago we were hot... REALLY hot.... and we decided we would enjoy a little refreshing dip in the pool. Only one small problem.... we had no pool. We thought one of those simple little "easy-set" pools would do the trick and, at a mere $100 on-line at Target, we placed our order. Now, I hear your snickers as you try to imagine a couple of full-grown adults even considering a pool which the specs indicate should be filled to a depth of 29 inches! Still, it looked refreshing and in the photo, no lie, there was a FAMILY in the pool, all, apparently refreshed and having a blast!
Whole family in this MONSTER pool!
The pool was not going to be shipped for a while, due, I suppose, to the overwhelming demand from couples in their 50's who were hot and wanted to cool down. So, we sweltered through the triple-digit, super humidity-soaked days, dreaming of our cool, refreshing pool. One HOT morning (seriously, the sunflowers were laying low, SCREAMING, "Uncle") I walked down the driveway, unlocked and opened the gate....the UPS delivery tracking showed that THIS was the day the pool was being delivered.
Sure enough, sometime late in the afternoon, we discovered the box had been delivered, the UPS driver having placed it inside the front, screened porch of the old farmhouse...we hadn't heard or seen him, and Killian, that fabulous watchdog of mine who HATES anything UPS...apparently slept through the whole delivery. Still, there it was, on the porch and awaiting the "5-minute set-up."
We hadn't noticed that the pool did not come with a ladder and while a three foot pool (that you only fill to a depth of 29 inches -- go figure) is not the TALLEST thing in the world, my days of hurdling over pool walls is long gone...I need to climb sedately into the pool, you know, like a "grown up." Joe, my "we can make ANYTHING from some piece of junk," guy was all about describing all sorts "possibilities" for ladders. None of them sounded too inviting to me, and I assured him I would look on Craig's list to see if I could find one cheap.
I had to drive over to the pond house that evening to pick up mail and run a few errands. It was Wednesday night and Thursday is trash pickup in that neighborhood. So, in my trunk I carried my trash from the old farmhouse to put in my garbage can at the pond house. As I drove down the road in the subdivision just in front of my little subdivision, I saw everyone pulling their garbage cans to the road in anticipation of the early morning pickup. At the end of one driveway, I spied what looked like a pool ladder... REALLY....
I had already passed the driveway, but I backed up, got out of my car and asked the couple that were dragging their garbage can to the road...
"Is that ladder going into the trash?" I asked.
They assured me it WAS destined for the trash, that it had nothing wrong with it, that they were HOPING someone would see it and pick it up, and YES, I could have it. Now, to be honest, the ladder looked a little bigger than I needed, but it was a ladder... Tall or not, it was MINE. I opened the trunk of my Hyundai Elantra, put down the back seat, moved MY trash from the trunk toward the front, and the guy wedged the first two feet into the trunk... the last three feet stuck out the back... but I didn't have far to go. I dropped the ladder off at the pond house, dropped my trash in the garbage can, picked up my mail and left to complete my errands.
Naturally, with the arrival of the pool came the much cooler, almost unseasonably cool, weather...and rain. And so, nearly a week went by before we undertook the great pool erection. Yes, we watched the DVD (how lame) and we chose our level spot (OK....sort of level spot). We spread a plastic ground cloth out, spread out the pool, filled the top ring with air, and filled with water.
Spread out on level ground (just like it said in the DVD instructions)
Roll up overalls...
Push the liner out to get rid of all the little "folds and wrinkles"
Obviously, a pool BELONGS in the garden, yes?
And, about four hours later we were rewarded with a filled pool with only a minor "lean" to it.
Little bit of a lean?
View from inside of the carport...ummm, still leaning "a little"
The next day (yesterday) I stopped in at the local Walmart and picked up pool water treatment chemicals. And tonight, we finally picked up the ladder from the pond house and brought it to the pool.... Yes, it is a little tall, but it is in excellent condition and too tall is better than too short.
(NO Diving.... PLEASE!)
Now.... we just need to try out our new pool.....today, it was in the mid 90's but we had no ladder...and I see on the TV weather report, the rains are expected here over the next few days...oh, yeah, I forgot...we are having a deck built off of this garage apartment we now call "home." The wood is being delivered tomorrow or Wednesday... OF COURSE, it will start to rain! Oh, well, I'm going to try out the pool tomorrow - I am determined...and I will keep my fingers crossed that whatever rain we have over the next few days we will still be able to proceed with the deck construction.
Yes, yes....from this angle that pool is LEVEL!!!!
On a completely different note, a couple more sunflowers rewarded our patience with flowers today...
5' 4" Judy meets Sunflower
Let it shine! Brilliant!
And apparently, we are not the only admirers of these lovely yellow monsters!
I was looking through photos we have taken this year -- working on the old farmhouse, getting the pond house ready for sale, trying the possibilities of gardening in the new place, working, working working....and having some fun with the goats! We have, literally, thousands of these photos. I think I have every stage of development of sunflowers, melons, goats, and of course the emergence of the old, broken, abandoned farmhouse property, into a place full of character. We have photos of cold days, hot days, gray-sky days, blue-sky days and crazy-sky days.
Interesting Sky
Storm Anticipation
Blue Skies
In many of the "photo albums" I find at least one shot taken with the "fish-eye" lens. I particularly like these shots because we can see more of the scene, even though we sacrifice "true view" for this distorted view. I like the way the photos are framed in the black edges of the lens' view. Though people tend to hate how they look with this lens, I think it adds a lot of fun to the photos.
Joe with Baby Melon
Neighbors and Friends
Sharing a Meal
As I was sifting through the albums, I was conscious of my time limitations today....I cannot simply chill all day, looking at photos...I have a date with my daughter to see my son and daughter-in-law in their roles in the musical, "Bye Bye Birdie." As I kept reminding myself of this commitment, and the time limitations, I thought about that line from Shakespeare's "As You Like It,"
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Well, I think with each stage of life I find there are indeed things I like...as well as those I don't like so well. 2010 has certainly been testament to that! But I think if, indeed, all the world's a stage, my own little part of that world could well be called, "theatre in the round," .... or ..... "three ring circus," ..... depending on your perspective...
