Sitting In The Dark

There Is Hope In The Choosing Of Me

2011-05-24T14:26:00.000-04:00

There is a hopelessness in what might have been. I can visit that, the past, which I have done recently, but I can also remember that it is done. Gone. I can look to today and hope for a better tomorrow. I can wake up to my surroundings, feel gratitude for the goodness all around me; the clean space I have created by letting go of the past. I choose gratitude. I choose hope. I choose me.

Beginnings

2011-04-22T23:41:00.003-04:00

This always start with the cursor, blinking with promise. Silent promise. What will I write in the blank spaces? If I remember, I can start my day like that, blinking into the promise of a day that has yet to form. A blank screen, white space ready to be filled. From sleep to awareness, that slow surface from the deep offers me a place to contemplate what will happen in the coming hours. It starts with the cursor. Always the blank space. Always a clean beginning.

I Probably Shouldn't Be Writing

2011-04-12T21:30:00.001-04:00

What is it about cycles? Things seem to be going along just fine, and then, bam. The electronic stuff goes, your glasses break, nothing seems to go right. These times come in a cyclical way for me. Although I have to say this time around is the gift that keeps on giving. Things have been going haywire, bump in the night, and boom. And then there's the matter of my aching heart. Has all this been brought on by where my heart lies right now?

Cycles. Birth, death, awake, asleep. Up, down, in and out. Stop the cycle. I want to get off.

Heartache, I Thought I Left You A Few Exits Back

2011-04-11T14:48:00.002-04:00

I thought I was past heartache, that it was in my rear view mirror, that I'd avoid it forevermore. Funny though how the past can come up from behind and surprise you, especially when you don't see it coming. I have had days and days full of pain in my heart that burned a hole through the back of my chest, in the past. I haven't felt that in a long time, until recently. It snuck up on me, took me by surprise, shook my heart to pieces. I suppose the good thing here is that I'm scooping up the pieces today. They're all in a mess, and each one is tender and sore. I know from experience that I will get them in order, in one place, a safe place. I'll nurse the pieces of my heart until I'm able to help them beat in one rhythm again. I'm out of sorts, sad, lonely. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow will be better.

Love Is A Verb

2011-04-09T16:13:00.000-04:00

Sometimes love isn't fun. It's hard. Sometimes love isn't a feeling, but an action. A verb. Right now I'm trying to figure out how to love myself into a place of peace, and it's hard. Peace seems remote. I don't know if I will find it. But I am taking the action of love and trying. There's little feeling there right now except sadness, so action is all I have.

I wish I had someone special in my life right now, only because it would be a distraction from the lonely. And really, I don't wish that because all I'd be doing is putting off the inevitable hard work of learning again what it means to be with myself.

I'm sad. I wonder if that will ever end.

Spring

2011-04-09T16:01:00.001-04:00

The winter was cold, but quiet in the wildlife department. No bears because they were busy hibernating. No squirrels because they were busy with their nuts and nests somewhere in the trees or wherever squirrels go. No bugs.

Now Spring is on its way though, and it seems that everybody is coming out of hiding. A bear was hanging out on my neighbors patio last week. The biggest deal for me, even before bears, are the squirrels. They have made a rec room out of my attic. I have an on-going conversation with the management company for our town house association...they've had people on my roof fixing my chimney, looking for other places those little varmints can squeeze their little bodies into. And yet...they are still there, having a party over my head.

They're cute until they play soccer over your head at night.

Generally, I am a huge animal lover. I strongly believe that animals have the right to be wherever they are, because they were here long before us. However, I now also believe that they don't belong in my attic. There has to be a way for us to peacefully and happily co-exist, and I mean to find out how to do that with the cute little soccer players who chose my attic to use as a stadium using nuts and berries for sports equipment.

Thank God

2010-08-02T19:44:00.000-04:00

It's been a long time since I've written. I've been caught up in other things: computers and air conditioning. Both have broken. One is fixed, the other replaced. The anxiety over them is great when they are broken. Funny how when they work I take them for granted.

My writing is now done on a new laptop, one that does exactly what I need it to do, no frills, no whiz or whistles. When I pare it down, this is really all that I need. Something on which to write. Something that will get me on line and handle my searches, my photos, my printing. My other laptop's fan died and when I noticed the lack of whirring it was almost too late. I saved my data though which in turn saved me from having a complete meltdown in questionable air conditioning.

Not more than two weeks ago the air conditioning in my house began to get warmer and warmer, blowing quite well but warm air. I called a repair company, and the guy told me I had a leak but if I put a towel under there I should be just fine. (What?) So I did. Fast forward a week and that towel got saturated. By the time I was changing it every three hours I got scared and called a new company. The guy really gave it a good look and found the leak. By the end of that day I had cold air again, although I now have air conditioner PTSD.

It was 96 degrees today. A friend of mine told me that she got into her pool, swam a little and had to go back inside because the water was too hot. The water was too hot. That's a little unnerving. I sat at an intersection today thanking God that my car's air conditioner worked in the extreme heat. It's a new car, but still. There was a guy next to me who had none and I watched him wipe the sweat from his face with a towel. That could be me, I thought. I could be sitting in a car that looks like the air conditioner should work and it doesn't. That could be me. But it wasn't, I sat at that light cool as you please, the fan blowing very cold air on my face. No PTSD there.

It almost rained today in my neighborhood but it didn't. The news reporter told me it would, to stay inside, the lightening was too dangerous. I got home and it thundered. And that was it.

There's little more to tell. That's all I know today.

My air conditioning is cool in the house now, and I'm thanking God.

Tools Set Aside Can Get On Your Nerves

2010-07-06T00:30:00.000-04:00

And this is what my life is at the moment.

It's exciting, the possibility of new. I love new. New starts, new stuff. New views. I love new. Getting to the new is arduous sometimes, however. The tools in this picture remind me of what the sherpas leave behind while getting someone to the summit of Mount Everest, which is where I feel this journey will lead me. And all this stuff? I know it's all getting me there, but crap. What a mess.

Anniversaries

2010-06-27T22:33:00.000-04:00

Today I remembered that six months ago I was still living in boxes, having moved to my new house on the 22nd of December. Crazy time of year to move. I suppose I could have waited a bit, but it is my first house and I just wanted to be here. And so I moved during the holidays.

Six months later, boxes emptied, I'm now in a state of upheaval of a different sort. I finally got a new kitchen sink. My guest bathroom is completely undone, no sink. Sink, no sink. Order, no order. Tidy, not tidy. Whatever. It's stressful to me.

I wouldn't trade it for anything when I look out at my little patio, the trees in the back offering shade, quietly generous in the giving. Save the hum of air conditioners, there is peace out there. When the evening sun shines through those trees I am rich. I am wealthy in a way that many people aren't.

And yet...I am lonely. As I do my emotional work, I grow toward health. Until now I haven't been well enough to sense that empty spot where someone could be. Maybe it's the projects I could get done if I had someone here to share them with, maybe it's that I'm aware of my aloneness. There are people I could ask to come help me; I have asked and will continue to ask. It's gratifying and humbling to spend time doing something here when a friend comes willingly, lovingly, to work with me. Today, however, I am lonely...

One of the views from my lovely patio in the trees...

and loneliness is ok for now when I'm out in the trees. What a view.

I Am Not A Genius

2010-06-27T22:28:00.000-04:00

I am, however, looking for my daemon, my muse, my creative other. I'm looking for that force in the corner of the room to collaborate with, to give me the Ole! Ole! I want to be in the spirit of God, co-creating, dancing, writing, lost in wonderment, unaware of time spent, unaware of anything but Allah! Allah!

There is room in that corner for You. You're welcome here. Enter laughing.

....And Then I Remembered My Angel

2010-06-05T12:02:00.002-04:00

The Gulf disaster: it is catastrophic, frightening, deadly. Horrifying. I try not to watch the news because I'm so ultra sensitive about the wildlife. I flinch each time I see something or even think about the lives lost through horrible suffering because of our dependence on oil. (Oil addiction? Not sure.) I have thought in recent days that I would happily sell my house and go live somewhere off the grid. A farm? The mountains? The lonely west? I don't know. Somewhere I can hide from the horrors of this. My soul is sick over it, and it isn't going to be fixed in the next 5 or even 10 years. Even more, according to some people. What have we, this country, done? What have we done?

I send white light out there and picture it coming down from the heavens pouring like a waterfall and emanating out from the rig, up to the sky, all around...following the pattern of where it's been tracked. White light and blessings, creative furies and light bulbs popping with the perfect solution to this horror. I want it to be fixed. I expect a miracle. No, I expect several miracles!

We are each born with an angel assigned to us. I officially offer my angel up to God to put her good work toward the sea life that is in such terrible danger. May she have a hand in healing in some way. I have offered her up! Off she goes! I think that is about the best I can do tonight. Have my angel, God, take her and let her be with those little lives suffering right now. And thank you, God, for the blessings we have in our own lives in this moment, for this moment may be all we have. Thank you God, for the blessings.

And that's all I can say. I am praying again tonight.

1 Year

2010-06-01T16:34:00.001-04:00

On this day one year ago I said goodbye to my beloved little friend and lifesaver, Kirby. Life has taken me to places I never thought I'd go since he left. In saying goodbye to him I felt lost without an anchor floating away from the familiar and scared, alone, comfortless. Today I find that I still long for the comfort of him even though his little kitten has given me companionship, someone in the house besides me, sounds of other life besides my own. I am amazed at the hole that remains after he has gone kind of like an empty room with no one there just the furniture with the blinds drawn.

His little panda and collar remain sitting near the television. I haven't been able to put them away yet. Sometimes his kitten carries the collar around the house, surely because of his familiar scent.

Sitting at my writing desk I often see a neighbor walking her dog briskly down the street and it makes me sad. I realize that I would most probably be doing the same thing, feeling far more comfortable with Kirby than I would if I were to venture out alone.

It's not just that Kirby was a dog. He was Kirby, my little life preserver, rescuer, friend with unconditional love like I've never known. Kirby. I miss you today, thinking of how you enriched my life, how you loved me when I was most unlovable, how you looked at me with knowing eyes and saw past the shadows reminding me sunlight was beyond them, peppy walk no worries, ears blowing in the wind all happy tail and trotting.

Thank you for picking me to share your short time on the earth with. Thank you for saving me from the shadows. You rescued me and I will continue to go forward remembering how you loved me, remembering that I will see you again one day near the rainbow bridge when we will walk over it together to whatever awaits us.

I miss you, little man. My life is not the same without you. You are one of the dear loves in my life, and I am so thankful that you came.

Opposites

2010-02-27T22:45:00.000-05:00

This Is What They Must Do All Day

2010-02-27T22:43:00.000-05:00

Well. I was enjoying a cup of coffee at the kitchen table the other day, lifted the cup to have a sip and found a very quiet kitty in the window and this little one in the chair in front of me looking as though there was nothing going on behind her at all.

Thoughts About Light

2010-01-25T16:09:00.001-05:00

I'm currently sitting at my desk with the windows wide open in every room of the house. The breeze is happily bringing the sun in. Allie and Sky are being. Just being, watching the leaves blow.

I took some pictures of the Buddha on my patio, the light over its shoulder streaming in such a way that I hoped I could catch it with my camera so I could look at it later when the sun had gone. Light is a mysterious thing to me, elusive, ever changing, something I look for, chasing with my eyes, sometimes rewarded with magic. I often think out loud in delight when I'm able to catch the light the way I like it, soft, streaming.

I suppose in a way I am like my little cats in this moment but not really since I am thinking and writing and just being is doing neither. Doing nothing is just being, and really as much as I would like to just be, I avoid it.

The breeze is causing the leaves to rustle and the light to move over the moss on the tree I'm looking at, making it a softer, deeper green. I want to touch it.

It's getting chilly now; the light has changed once again. My house has east to west sun so as the day ends the tiny courtyard I look out on gets darker. I'm lingering at my desk not wanting to close the windows, but the house is colder now and the cats have come in telling me that they are looking for a bit of warmth on this January afternoon in Florida.

My friends tell me that when the spring comes I will have lots of shade over my house. I look up, tilted head, trying to imagine the tree that is mine, mature and lovely, with green leaves holding its branches out for the little finches to return, offering me yet another opportunity to watch what the light does to things outside my window.

Sometimes I Get Lucky

2010-01-25T14:44:00.000-05:00

There are times when I see light streaming, longing to catch that moment so I can look back in wonder. I am always amazed that the magic is still there when I look at it again, thinking that there is just no way a camera can hold magic, but it does, and it did.

Sort Of Like The Moon But Warmer

2010-01-06T13:46:00.001-05:00

The quiet allows me to feel safe enough to lay on the floor by the bricks of this fireplace,taking in the way light plays lazily on what sits before it, warming its face kind of like the moon but the moon is lonely, cold, and this vessel is not surrounded by space and stars, but warmth, more like a comforting blanket.

Can You Give Me Directions To The Nearest McDonald's?

2010-01-04T00:09:00.000-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

So tonight I put out the trash and heard big sounds like cans being thrown around. And leaves rustling. Since there's a family of black bears foraging around my neighborhood, I decided that I didn't want to be someone's midnight snack and walked as quickly as I have in recent memory to my front door. Not that a deadbolt will keep bears out, but still. I don't know anyone who has been eaten by a bear and I don't want to be first. What a random accident that would be, interesting information for obituary readers.

I'm Not Sure There Will Ever Be A Fire Quite Like This One

2010-01-03T23:42:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting here with a fire in the hearth at 400 Newton Place. No curtains yet, no pictures hung, and still I don't know if there will ever be a fire quite like this. My first.

I used to walk through neighborhoods on cold nights in Virginia Beach, and then later here in Florida, feeling melancholy. Something about that delicious homey smell of fire places made me think that there were families in those houses who were happy, warm, cozy. Tonight I'm burning my own fire, warm and cozy on a clear cold night in January. The crackling of the flames is the only sound as the walls flicker with light. And I am enough.

Random Acts Of Golf Carts

2009-12-10T00:05:00.000-05:00

Yesterday afternoon I came home and dropped my stuff at the front door, walked in and the enormity of this move hit me visually. As I was taking in the picture of boxes everywhere, outside there was a loud BAM! I thought, "huh, that didn't sound good". I looked out the window and didn't see anything, but something told me to open the front door. I was greeted by the sight of a golf cart attached to my car's bumper. All by itself. Almost like it was set up for a photograph.

My car is often the only car in front of my apartment building, and yesterday was no different. One of the maintenance guys had a call in an apartment across the parking lot and put his golf cart in one of the parking spaces. Across the large parking lot. He couldn't have been there long because I didn't notice him as I drove past. In that short span of time, the golf cart backed up and kept on going until it was rudely stopped by my car's bumper.

So I'm standing there all, "huh". I turn to see one of the other maintenance guys toodling around the corner and I'm all "whose golf cart is this?" And he's "oh, snap, look at your car". So he grabs his radio and calls the owner of the wayward golf cart who busts out of the apartment like he can stop what has already happened. Yeah. So the three of us stand there sizing up the situation taking note that the ball hitch is hooked underneath the bumper and I suggest taking my jack and lifting the car up and before I can say "boo" the guy jumps into his seat and presses go and pulls the bumper tearing it even more. Some time passes and the complex manager comes rolling around the corner of the building in her own tricked out golf cart and points to the maintenance guys, "you and you, over there". I hear some scolding and she returns to me and says "in 25 years this has never happened and I'm not sure of what to do let me call you in the morning". So I say, "well, perhaps some estimates are in order" She says, "maybe, let me call you in the morning".

This morning comes and I get a call from her saying she wants to "work around my schedule" so she's going to send people to me to give an estimate, not me going to them, kind of like Progressive insurance except without the insurance and definitely not progressive because nobody shows up.

She calls me back:

Her: What are you doing Saturday?

Me: Moving.

Her: What are you doing Monday?

Me: Moving. Perhaps you'll have to send someone to my new neighborhood.

Her: *

Me: *blink*

Her: *

To be continued.

Packing Up

2009-12-08T00:45:00.009-05:00

A lot of this place is boxed up, ready to be moved on Sunday. It's a bit unsettling since I purged so much of my life just months ago and yet there are still boxes of things. Books,little objects that hold special meaning, picked up along the way and placed on a shelf, on a desk, on a wall. I'm thankful for them all, special symbols of things I want to remember.

There is more to box up. More to carry over to the new place, my new house. I look up from my desk and see the date highlighted so I don't forget I will be signing my name on a contract giving me the right to call it home.

I'm sad. If Kirby hadn't died, I wouldn't be packing up and moving; I didn't think beyond each day while he was sick, not wanting to think of what I would do without him. Time has propelled me forward. I think of tomorrow now, of what I can do today. But, I'm sad. As I box my books and little objects I think of him knowing he isn't coming along, noticing the quiet as I work. He would be all over this commotion, sniffing around, wagging that tail, getting under foot. But it's quiet.

My friends will be here to help me move much of the smaller stuff on Saturday. I realized that this doesn't have to be a solitary experience, that I have people in my life who want to share the joy of this accomplishment and will happily do so if I invite them in. Inviting people into this experience is the best way to begin the new chapter and to help me end this one.

The day I'm done with cleaning before I hand over the keys will be the day I will say goodbye to this place and I have a fear of leaving it. I know Kirby is with me wherever I go, and his little baby and leash will be gently laid in a corner of the new place until I'm able to put them lovingly away for safe keeping yet there is something about closing this door for the last time that will hurt.

I miss him. I'm afraid of what I will feel when I leave here for the last time, driving by our walking places. Saying good bye is so hard. And although I know that it's not forever, that I'll see him again, it will be a long time until then. A very long time.

But I will close that door. And he will always be with me. This is my comfort. It is that knowledge which gives me the ability to do this. Kirby is always with me, and there will be a small little voice when my hand rests on that door knob that will say, "come on, boy, let's go." And off we'll go, to the new house, the new life.

And all will be well. Thank God.

Permission

2009-11-24T09:25:00.004-05:00

Yesterday the results of the appraisal were forwarded to my mortgage planner. Almost immediately, I received an email from him telling me about it. I have been waiting for the results, as I think of it this morning, to give myself permission to move forward. If there was a problem, it would not be prudent to allow myself to be happy. A problem might cause the sale not to go through. A problem could cause the closing to be postponed. All could be lost if the house appraised too low and the seller backed out. Well. Those things did not happen and aside from some minor cosmetic work, it appraised higher than the selling price. I am finally able to give myself permission to take a deep breath and smile with anticipation, with ... happiness. Happy that I will have my own house on the last day of these remaining three weeks, that I will have a kitchen with dappling sunlight each morning, all quiet and peace, a place to get up in the morning and wander into the kitchen, wanting to be there and have a cup of coffee. Even though I'm scared to death of the enormity of this responsibility, even though I'm scared something could happen to cause me to struggle...I am happy. The fluidity of this process has given me the knowing that this little house is meant to be mine, that I'm meant to live in it cherish it repair it think of it tenderly treat it with respect and admiration. It will be a safe and holy place to welcome friends inside, warm and inviting. The back patio is green serenity, surrounded by trees growing deeper than I can possibly see beyond, a place where I will take my laptop and things yet unformed will come to me and I will marvel in the discovery of what dear others-my best friend, first and always, and the wise sages in my life- have always told me: I am an artist. It will encourage that artist to peek out from behind the fear and shame. This patio will nourish and encourage the happy. I will develop a relationship with my spirituality here.

I am grinning.

Waiting, Waiting, Waiting

2009-11-23T02:05:00.002-05:00

So it's Sunday night, November 22nd. The appraisal was presented to the VA electronically, which means that tomorrow they'll look at it and decide if it needs anything extra to pass it as a solid choice for them to back me up. My worry has been that it will appraise low. Somehow though, I don't think that will be an issue. This process has been so easy that I don't really expect any bumps in the road. I really think all is well and we'll know at the end of the month on what day the closing will be scheduled. And it will all go well.

I've been day dreaming about what color to paint the cabinets, what color to paint the kitchen, if I can buy tile and store it in the garage-I have a garage!- until I can find a professional to help me install it. Small jobs, a little at a time.

This house is perfect for me. The peace I feel when I am in it tells me it's right.

Scrambling to get all the paperwork together for the contract, and down the line for the underwriter, was a little stressy but now that it's over and all I can do is wait, well. My mind on free time is not a good thing. My imagination can limit the best things in my life. So I'm trying to set my imagination free this night. I want it to go visit something vast and wonderful with lots of color and music.

Go on, imagination. Go play.

Thoughts On Transition

2009-11-09T21:58:00.001-05:00

The thing about moving is that not all of your life goes out the door with the boxes. There are parts of you that remain behind.

I moved into this apartment complex eight years ago. At that time, Kirby was just over five years old. We both matured here, grew older together. He mellowed. He spent the last half of his life taking walks in this complex. It makes me sad when I remember saying that I wanted him to have a back yard. He never did. I remember our walks, how they became a routine, how he knew when to speed up, or turn, or pause at each of his little landmarks along our route. I pass them now as I drive in or out of the complex. I'm thankful that I don't have to walk past them, because that would mean that I'd be doing it without him.

Kirby's gone, and yet our route remains. My heart lingers there. Although I know that I carry my little man in my heart wherever I might be, I also know that I'm leaving a part of us here. And when I don't call this home anymore, the emptiness of where he has always been in my life will be loud. I will notice where he will not be, when I open the door for the first time with my own set of keys. I will notice that he will not be underfoot, sniffing out new corners, checking out where his boundaries would be. I will notice where he is not. And I will miss our route, our landmarks, because a part of him is there, happily trotting along sniffing the ground as we walked, lifting his head to sniff the breeze while his ears blew back softly. I will miss sharing the adventure of new places with him. There won't be a new route for us to discover.

So I will leave a part of me here, the place where Kirby spent the last half of his life. The place where I spent the last part of his life with him. In that sense, this place is sacred. And because it is sacred, I will leave a part of myself behind.

Sometimes Where You Fly A Flag Is Not Where You Actually Live

2009-11-07T23:52:00.015-05:00

I know about negative thinking. More often than not, I have had a negative view of life. Today, however, I know that what you focus on is what you attract to you. I get all that. And when I say if something happens and I don't get this house at 400 Newton Place, I'll be ok, I mean that I have learned so much from this experience that I can go forward and not backward. I mean that I'm not focusing on the house or my life or good fortune or bad. I mean that I'm thankful.

400 Newton Place is a destination in my process, and not a final stop. I will always think of this address now, no matter where I live or what I do, as a point of success. Pulling up to the curb of this little home meant I was in a position to consider if it would work for me, a house, decide that I wanted it, a house, and then get approved to actually buy it. A house. Me. By myself.

There's a flag holder in the front of Newton Place. When I moved into my first apartment after selling my first home, feeling so heartbroken, I bought an aluminum flag pole. Aluminum is strong, permanent, withstands the weather. It will last. I told myself that one day I would put it up, and it would be in the place I would live for a long time, and I would need something that would weather well. It's been in the storage closet in every apartment I've lived in since then. I haven't thought about it in a very long time until the other day when I began thinking of packing and preparing for the move. I have a place to fly a flag, I thought. I will fly a flag.

Newton Place will always hold this possibility for me. I will fly a flag, even if I never live there.

Room With A View

2009-11-04T23:09:00.003-05:00

The view from my new living room.

House hunting is quite an experience. A roller coaster. An up down yes no maybe happy sad terrifying exhilirating experience. Eye opening learning revelation. And then you find it - the right one. The -could it be possible that this one could work oh it's so perfect? - one.

After finding the one, there's all the stuff surrounding it that makes women out of little girls. Oh yes. This is my college experience. More exhausting and demanding than anything I have ever done, more details than I thought I could ever keep track of, requiring more faith than I thought I ever had.

Closing is set for the middle of December.

Wow.

The Little One Inside

2009-10-28T23:40:00.002-04:00

Although I know that there are quite a few different children who need my attention within, the one who has my attention at the moment is that wee little girl who gets excited thinking that she thinks she's getting something wonderful, so wonderful that her stomach hurts. When she doesn't get what she wants so badly, she sinks into despair. So terribly low. Then when she sees that there is something exciting happening again, she gets anxious, full of expectation, and then the thing doesn't happen or she doesn't get what she wants. And then despair.

Looking for a house has kicked this into high gear and I've been unkind to this little one. Although the roller coaster of finding a house is normal, I hear, this experience is stirring up a lot of fear.

When I was little, maybe 4 or 5, Christmas came. I was old enough to know that Santa was coming and there would be lots of gifts and I got so excited that I threw up in the middle of the night. This is the girl who is active right now. I'm not sure how to calm her except to acknowledge that yes, it is exciting, but things may not happen the way we want, even in the span of just one day. And, no matter what, we will be ok. We will be fine. I get that intellectually, but that little one will have none of it. So I will sit with her a bit and let her know it's ok to be excited, and I'll be there if something happens to disappoint her.

Mondays Shouldn't Be So Up And Down

2009-10-27T00:08:00.003-04:00

So today I rode the house hunting roller coaster. In the listings I'd find one, ooh, I could make this work or that, the price should be negotiable, it's cute, and then...oh. Short sale. Foreclosure. Bank owned. Not FHA or VA approved. But ooh, there's one that might work. Nope.

I have yet to even go looking with a realtor. Tomorrow is my maiden voyage, the first time I will do such a grown up thing, all on my own. Kind of like the first day of college, knowing that there are things ahead that I will only learn by doing.

There's something out there for me in the ethers, I know this. But oh. my. god. This journey may not be easy, and it's sure as hell going to be filled with twists and turns I can only imagine. I'm going in with just the vaguest knowledge, much of it learned over the last month of reading and talking to people.

My resources are very rich. I have dear people in my life who are very experienced and knowledgeable who love me very much. This will be a good thing. I welcome it. I'm ready.

Houses and Tents

2009-10-24T23:06:00.010-04:00

As a child it never occurred to me that I would not live in a house. It was just the way people lived. I never knew anyone who did not live in a house. As an adult, I've lived in houses and apartments. And tents, for short camping trips, but I suppose that doesn't count, does it? I've owned one house in my lifetime. It never occurred to me that I would not own one. In the past decade though, I've lived in apartments (no tents) and I'm so ready to own a house again. Ironic then that the housing market is horrible. It's been said all over the news that it's a buyer's market out there but let me tell you that unless you're looking for a foreclosed house it's slim pickings if you're not well-to-do. And I'm certainly not that. Financially, that is.

Funny how time just flows by like a river till one day my head pops up above it and I see my life swishing by on the banks. It was during one of those moments when it occurred to me that hey, I could own a house. Why didn't I own a house? I thought I had until January to take advantage of the Great First Time Home Buyer's Tax Exemption of 2008 and 2009. Oh well. People have until the 30th of November to close and it's now October 24th so even if I made an offer on a house tomorrow I'm not sure I would be at a closing by then. Also? It kind of feels weird to say I'm a first time home buyer when I really owned a home until 1999.

Tents are interesting places to live even for short periods of time. I can remember in middle school camping with my friend Karen and her family. We slept in our own tent. I think her family had it for years and years because it had the smell of old tent when we slept in it at night. And then when it rained during the night the water leaked through. Old tent smell is sort of musky and earthy and I liked it very much. It was comforting in an odd sort of way. When we'd get dressed in the chilly weather and come outside Mrs. Karen's Mom would be making breakfast over the fire and that kind of breakfast is pretty much the best kind of breakfast ever in the history of breakfast. All fresh air and bacon frying, orange juice pouring and eggs. And after the best breakfast in the history of breakfasts we would go hiking in the Maryland woods. There were wonderful rock faces to attempt climbing but in the end I just sat and breathed in the fall air and was one with those rocks. There was a quiet appreciation for them, for the light around them (it was early morning and I am a huge fan of early morning light-and evening light, but that is for another story). The morning light was diffusing the sharpness of those rocks and there was a light mist around them. That fresh air was also damp and I liked that very much. I suppose mostly because of what dampness does to the light, or what light does to the dampness. Yes, the last one. Sitting near those rocks in that field was an oasis from my life and I cherish those days I lived in the tents with Karen and Mrs. Karen's Mom and Mr. Karen's Dad and Karen's Brother. It was a trip away that I will never forget. Living in tents can be a good, good thing.

Now that I still live in an apartment I long for a home that I can call my own. A place that I can cry for joy that I am the one who holds the keys, no one else. My house. I looked at a listing this evening and it seemed that I had found the house that was for me. It's perfect for me. I want this house. I want to look at it. I want to put a contract on it and in 30 days I want to be moving into it to claim it as my own home, all mine. The start to a new life that I never thought I could have without having someone else living in it. But I know now that I can do it, and I can do it well.

I want to cherish this house, to give it love and protect it from the ravages of time by repairing what goes wrong. I want this house to love me, too. I know I will find this house, the one who is waiting for me . Although I am not adverse to living in tents; they bring me back to the childhood memory of Mrs. Karen's Mom and Mr. Karen's Dad, Karen and her Brother. But tents are a bit hard to cherish. Their nature is temporary and my house will not be that. It will be my security in life, my symbol of stability. I'm setting my sights on this house and we'll see what happens.

And I'm also looking at tents in the store - just in case.

October 18th

2009-10-18T18:52:00.002-04:00

I keep wondering why I think I should wait to write about you till the first of every month, and then because it's the third or fourth I think I should wait till the next month. So it's the eighteenth and why not, I'm missing you today. It's been chilly here and you would have loved to have been able to go on a walk with me. I saw a lady walking her little dog a while ago and his little legs just went so fast and he seemed so happy that I missed you terribly in that moment. Next month you will be gone 5 months. In that time I have changed and grown without wanting to but time has propelled me forward even though I didn't want to go. Life without you is odd, I'll tell you. I miss coming home to you nosing the bells at the front door, waiting for it to open. I miss that little snort you made when you relaxed. I just miss you, Kirby. And something important that I know about myself today is that I don't want just any dog. I want you. Since you are no longer here, I realize it's you I miss, not that you were a dog. It's you.

August First

2009-08-01T22:48:00.006-04:00

You fill the frame of your happy picture, practically jumping out at me when I look at it. Most often I smile into your eyes, knowing it was me you were smiling at with happy expectation of what I don't know but you were happy. It hardly seems like two months. It seems as though you never left when I look at it and you're just away. You're coming back to me somehow, I mean, I know you're gone, you were in my arms when you left this world but it's surreal. When I left you, you were so peaceful and you looked as though you were just sleeping so it was ok for me to leave the room. I knew I'd never see you again, but somehow it was ok. I mean Kirby, I'll never see you again and still I can't believe it. Where did you go? Are you alright? Are you safe? Loved? I suppose I will always wonder these things until I can know for sure. Nobody can love you, wherever you are, the way that I do, except God. That sounds pretty weird when I think about it but there isn't enough love in the world for you. I'm trusting that you are there, safe and protected and loved resting in the heart of God, until I join you. Until then there's an empty place where you're supposed to be and it's so hard to look for you there and not find you waiting all waggy tail and bright eyes, wearing that are-you-going-to-the-kitchen-because-I'm-ready-whenever-you-are look.

I'm just now finding new ways to live without you. That sounds so wrong to me but that's what it is, like a tree growing new shoots since one of the branches is completely sawed off and it hurts so much I can't even tell you. Life has a different rhythm now, with fits and starts and really not a rhythm at all but a march, an unhappy march. It's not all unhappy, and I'm working at making it ok, but there's something missing in the music I'm trying to hear, Kirby. It's you. You're missing from the music. That's all I can say. Two months.

One Whole Month

2009-07-01T20:13:00.003-04:00

In the last 30 days, I have found so many ways that you and I were connected. Mostly because of the emptiness around here, I guess. I don't get up when I could or should, because you're not here to need me. I don't want to come home, even though little Sky is here. I know she can take care of herself, and she doesn't look for me the way you always did. She doesn't need me the way you did. Part of that is just that she's a cat, and they are vastly different from dogs. Part of it is that I'm just missing you so much and nothing can fill this void you've left. And I'm not looking for Sky to fill it.

You loved me in a pure way, unconditionally. You were my soft place, my safest place. I always knew you were waiting for me, and no matter what, no matter what I said or didn't say, no matter if I saw shades of gray, you wagged your tail, you smiled at me, you gave me a happy reminder that life existed beyond my sadness, beyond all the things that lacked the sunshine. Without your reminder, I find that I don't naturally look for it, the sunshine. I am finding that I'm forgetting the sunshine without you here to remind me.

I can't, and probably never will be able to find the words to express how much I miss you, how much you meant to me, how much better my life is because you were here.

It's been 30 days, and I'm so ready for you to come home.

18 Days

2009-06-18T21:55:00.003-04:00

Hi, boy. It's only been 18 days, but it feels like a thousand. I keep looking for you. I keep expecting you to be there as I look down, but you're not. Your panda baby is still here, sitting forlornly on the floor.

I have a friend whose dog, Willow, is terribly sick. It happened all of a sudden, and she's in a lot of pain. I think she's going to have to say goodbye tomorrow. It's so close to losing you...I saw her yesterday, and she was suffering. Kirby, I hope you weren't in that much pain in the days before you died. I don't think you were, but I know right now that if you were, you aren't anymore, and I am comforted by that.

The loss of you is so deep and wide. Really, I can talk around it, but how can you talk from a hole that has burned deep inside? There's nothing there but the burned edges. And that hole...is very deep.

I miss you, boy.

The End, but Not

2009-06-13T17:27:00.002-04:00

I got your urn today. I put your ashes in it, sitting on the floor in front of your panda bear. It was so hard, Kirby. Although not the most painful part in this process, it symbolizes the end of it.

My tears flow so freely now that they hit my glasses.

I'm so glad you lived, I'm so glad you were mine. Thank you. I miss you so much.

Never Goodbye

2009-06-12T22:22:00.004-04:00

When I left you that bright sunny morning you were peaceful. I'm not sure if I was in denial; I don't think so. You were peaceful. I left knowing that. The pain I feel is the pain of knowing I won't see you for the rest of my life. The rest of my life.

When it's over, when I leave here, I know you'll be waiting for me, at the rainbow bridge. Just like it says: "You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart." I know you'll be there, Kirby. I can see us walking over that bridge, together, into whatever waits for us.

In the meantime, you'll never, ever, be absent from my heart. You live there always. I love you, boy, forever and a day. Somehow, I know you know that.

Wordless

2009-06-12T20:53:00.004-04:00

Repetitions

2009-06-09T21:45:00.002-04:00

They are crying salt tears
Over the beautiful beloved body
Of Inez Milholland,
Because they are glad she lived,
Because she loved open-armed,
Throwing love for a cheap thing
Belonging to everybody—
Cheap as sunlight,
And morning air.

Carl Sandburg

sigh

2009-06-09T21:23:00.004-04:00

I suppose I'm going to have to just walk through this in-between time of knowing you're gone but not wanting to believe it.

The house is quiet now. Your kitten is sad. She's lost, like me. When I was gone, she had you.

There was always some sound you made: barking, snoring, stirring to look for me. The sound of you was always there, a backdrop to my life. The silence you've left me with is unsettling and uncomfortable. It underscores your absence. I know I could turn on the tv to drown out the quiet. But that would be a dishonor to you and to my feelings for you.

So I will sit in the quiet, missing you. I will walk through this time of not wanting this to be true.

I miss you.

One Week Later

2009-06-09T00:40:00.004-04:00

After 14 years, Kirby had become part of the landscape of my every day. I thought of him in the same way I thought about breathing. Except that I don't think about breathing. He was part of my breath.

Knowing I was losing him gave me time to prepare, to take care of things in advance, to plan how it would go in the end. Plans of this nature often don't go down the way they are supposed to...but mine did. Only because we were blessed. Getting back to the breathing. He was a part of my breath. In the days since his death I have had to breathe without him. Sometimes it's moments and sometimes it's hours where I am just lost in confusion...is he here? Is he gone? Where is he? Kirby?

Each day now is bursting with emptiness. The quiet here is not familiar. His little life was not so little. He depended on me to take care of him - walk him, feed him, play, talk, love. I depended on him for comfort and companionship; he would always lend me an ear, a shoulder to cry on. Always patient, quiet, solemn. Soon after he'd know I was ready to move on and he'd expect me to feed him or take him for a walk. His mood picked up when my energy picked up. All waggy tail and bouncy step.

Kirby? Where are you? Are you here? Are you gone? It's too quiet without you. Won't you come back home?

My Little Man

2009-06-03T00:35:00.003-04:00

I said goodbye to my beloved little man yesterday morning. I am heartbroken. His life was such a gift to me. He brought so many blessings. He was patient with me, loving me unconditionally his whole life. Kirby made my life so much better just by wagging his little tail.

I miss him so much that I'm finding it hard to breathe. This is where I turn to him to bury my head into his shoulder where he patiently waits until I cry myself out. But he's not here. He's not here, and he never will be again. There's a big gaping hole in my life since he left me yesterday morning.

Heaven's a little fuller today, I think. There's one happy go lucky little guy who has graced the steps to get in. He certainly belongs there. I know it's where he came from to begin with.

There's so much to say, but my soul aches. Another day.

Good night, boy. I love you.

A Belated Veteran's Day

2008-11-12T22:38:00.034-05:00

Yesterday, Tuesday, November 11th, was Veteran's Day. Over the years, I've noticed that it has become less of a remembrance and more of a day off for some people, and sales in the mall for most.

There was a parade downtown in Orlando, and that went largely unnoticed by most. I don't recall even a snippet on the news. I know that Veteran's Day is intertwined with WWI and WWII, but...I'm a vet, too. There are literally hundreds of thousands of us. What will happen when the last World War veteran dies? What will happen to the rest of us? I think about those who served in Desert Storm, Afghanistan, in Iraq. (I know I left out a few wars. It's sad that there are more that I've forgotten.) Will there be parades then? Will there be yellow ribbons for those who return, some whole, many with permanent injuries? Will that be our generation's poppies? Yellow ribbons?

I hope that there is a renewed appreciation for the people who volunteer to join the armed forces. (The most recent war in Iraq reminds me of Vietnam. It's a useless war. Billions of dollars wasted that we will never see again. *sigh*) When these people return home from serving in the military, I wonder what their fate will be. I think of those who have lost limbs, coming home to learn how to live lives, forever altered. Will the government - will we - honor their service? Honor their sacrifice? And how will we do that?

Tuesday, my favorite car wash offered free car washes to veterans. It's rare to find anyone who shows support for veterans in such a selfless way. Actually, I was surprised to find that they did this. So, I decided to take them up on their offer. This was a big deal for me. When I went inside, the cashier told me I was the only woman veteran to come in. I was struck by this because it reminded me that there weren't many women in the service during my tour. There are so many more today. It made me wonder how many are in this area? What are their lives like today? Anyway. They didn't require an ID, but I felt compelled to show it to the cashier. I'd never had the occasion to do that, and I was surprised by how I felt. I felt proud. And that my car wash showed appreciation to veterans was touching to me. It was the first time I allowed myself to be thanked for my service.

When I pass someone in military uniform, I always make a point of walking over to them to thank them for what they have done for our country. It's sometimes awkward, but always rewarding.

In Canada, they honor their veterans with Remembrance Day. On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, all over Canada, two minutes of silence in all public places are observed to honor all who served. One of my favorite bloggers, the Yarn Harlot,(having problems with html, so here's the link to her site: http://www.yarnharlot.ca/blog/) lives there and posted a most touching tribute to her grandfather. It applies to all veterans, and the comments on this entry were heartwarming. She concludes her post with Flanders Fields.

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Now I know the significance of the poppies people have at this time of year. I'm dismayed that I never connected it. I wonder what our people will use as a symbol to remember the veterans that have recently come home, and those who still have yet to be welcomed into the open arms of their families? Those who lost their lives?

I've heard it said that the people who serve in the military choose to do so, that it's an economic decision as much as anything else. Looking back over the 30 years since I served in the Air Force, I know that it is not a decision to be taken lightly. It's daunting and frightening. In deciding to join the service, you give up your freedom to choose where to live, when you want to move, and where. You choose to allow your government to send you into desperate situations where you could be injured or killed. You learn how to use weapons. You know you may not have the comfort of going home to your family, that you could instead sleep in the desert, or in the cold, in faraway places that many have never heard of or have forgotten. In the face of that, what's a paycheck worth, really? There's a certain amount of patriotism that goes into the decision to join the armed forces. I can't say that all feel that way. I know that most people I've talked to do, though, including many of the people I served with so long ago. When I signed up at the tender age of the first day of being 21 at the recruiter's office, it stirred a feeling of patriotism I didn't know I had.

There's a sense of disillusionment that goes along with getting used to military life. On one hand you feel immense pride. On the other, there is the day to day grunt work of everyday life, the mundane, if you could call it that, of showing up for work, and in my case, going to the armory and getting your weapons, working your shift, hoping nothing happens while you're there. The day to day politics that can drive you nuts.

There's a structure to military life that is vastly different from anything I have experienced since. Most people will never know what that life is like. Even for those who work in cubicles on military bases, there is always a chance that you will be told to pack up and go somewhere else. Now. It's something you never get used to, that sense of impermanence. It's definitely not for the faint of heart.

My experience in the military was, to say the least, a difficult one. I'm not quite ready to talk about it. I'm proud that I served; mostly I'm proud that I survived. That's a story for another day. But I am proud to be a part of a group who knows what it's like to leave home and go to an unfamiliar place with people you don't know, and forge a bond with them so that you become a unit that protects itself from outside danger. I'm proud that I wore a uniform I worked so hard to have the right to wear, proud that in serving my country I learned that I am strong. That I could and would survive. And there's something I forgot...to be thankful for my experience in the Air Force. It taught me a lot. More than I can talk about this Veteran's Day.

But I will.

Adorable.

2008-11-06T22:03:00.006-05:00

Oh yeah, she's adorable, alright. She got the wind up her ass last night and terrorized poor Kirby and then ran at full speed in the opposite direction and slammed into the windows repeatedly before zooming off into the bedroom, only to fly out of there and into the kitchen where she knocked the baby gate down and knocked over the trashcan. KNOCKED OVER THE TRASH CAN. That thing is at least almost 3 feet tall. Flew out of there probably because she scared herself, jumped up onto the dining room sideboard thing, sailed over the dog crate in between that and the chair, landed on the back of the chair, went behind the couch, traveled at high speed and wound up sliding into home plate on her paper bag behind my recliner. Then she started it all over again. And all the while, I was on the phone and couldn't say a thing. I just watched her in amazement, with a bit of bewilderment thrown in. I don't get cats.

Otters holding hands

2008-11-04T01:23:00.001-05:00

This reminds me of what is most important in life: innocence and love. That's what it's all about!

Eco-Friendly Experiment

2008-11-02T23:08:00.006-05:00

Some of the reading I have been doing mentions being Eco-friendly. I'm all for this. After all, whatever goes down the drain winds up in our water.

One of the blogs I read recently gave a recipe for a drain cleaner: 1 cup of baking soda, 1 cup of vinegar. That's it. Having had experiences with clogged drains, I take preemptive actions to prevent this. Usually I use the most powerful drain cleaner I can find. This time, however, I decided to try a gentler approach. Ha. What the directions didn't tell me is that when you mix vinegar and baking soda together, you get something similar but far more fizzy than Alka Seltzer Plus. Way more fizzy. Like almost explodingly overflowing with eco-friendly goodness fizzy.

First, I decided that I would take a measuring cup and put the baking soda in first. I figured that if I poured the vinegar in last, I could mix it easier. Well. Imagine my surprise.Talk about eco-friendly fizz. I had eco-friendly all over my kitchen. So, I went back to the drawing board. I decided I would put this mixture in a pitcher so that it wouldn't overflow into eco-friendly happiness anywhere else. That worked. So, I took it to the bathroom and poured it down the drain. And...no effect whatsoever. I guess I expected to see some amazing something happening. Nothing. I was disappointed, but moved on with my day.

Later, I met with a friend and told her my eco-woes. She asked me if I took the drain cover off. I asked her why. She looked at me like, silly eco-friendly wanna be. She said I had to take the cover off and pour the baking soda down the drain first, and then the vinegar. I told her I didn't think my drain cover could come off. Again, she looked at me and was all, wanna be. Most drains have screws on them. We discussed the other options I had, like being very patient and pouring the baking soda down verrrry slowly. Now, I am not a kitchenly person. The last contact I had with baking soda was...when I got the bright idea to try to use it for toothpaste in between my teeth cleanings. Yeah. That went the way of many other bright ideas I've had. (It tastes gross, if you're wondering.) Anyway. Baking soda, if you pour it into something, is kind of dense. Powdery, but dense.

Taking this new information home with me, I went straight to my bathroom and peered at my bathtub drain. Hmm. There WAS a screw on the thing. So I got my screwdriver and unscrewed it. That was the easy part. I got my 1 cup of baking soda and dumped it down the drain. (Note to Self: remember not to pour baking soda down an even slightly damp drain. It sticks. A lot.) Not surprisingly, I didn't count on it being so ... ummm....dense. And I didn't count on there being metal sections in the drain either, and that impeded the baking soda from going down smoothly. I didn't have a stick, so I looked for something to pound down the baking soda, and came up with a wooden spoon. A chopstick would have been better, but a wooden spoon was all I had. It went with the other elements of this experiment anyhow - kitchen ingredients, wooden spoon, you see where I'm going.

So after packing the baking soda down as far as it would go, I poured some of the vinegar hoping it would go down the drain. Well. What I got was a big dose of fizz. And the baking soda wasn't going anywhere. So, I stuck the wooden spoon down the drain again...and again...and again, till it was pretty much down. Each time I poured a little vinegar, more fizz. Finally, the vinegar was down, and the baking soda was still stuck, like paste, around the drain. I gave up. I turned on the water to hot and just let it rip. It seemed to work. I put the drain cover back on. Since the drain wasn't really stopped up, I guess I'll never know how well it really works. Until I really do have a clogged drain...and then my brilliant eco-friendly work will come up for analysis. I was thinking though, this kind of cancels itself out, since I do the naked cleaning in the shower thing with some kick-ass spray chemical. Gotta think about that.

When There's A Mermaid To Be Found, I'm Not The One To Look For It

2008-10-23T22:06:00.008-04:00

I think my kitten is a nut job. Or perhaps it's me. No matter. The thing is, I bought Sky a mermaid as one of her new toys when she first arrived. She loves it. The toy is cute - she has a permanent grin, and fuzzy hair. (OK, so mermaids have scales, mostly. And this is a toy. For a cat.) The most important thing is that she has whatever you call the bottom of a mermaid, like, I guess, the fins? And the bathing suit top - that's not a bow on her chest - you can't deny that it's a mermaid. There has been some discussion between my friend, the Shrimp, and I about whether it looks like a dog with a bra, or a mermaid. Clearly, this toy is a mermaid.

But I digress. One day about 3 weeks ago, the mermaid went MIA. I looked for this thing everywhere. I turned up chairs, got the stick that used to have a toy on the end of it and swept it underneath all of the furniture. I looked under the bed, behind the washer. You name it, I went all stealth on that mermaid and couldn't find it anywhere. I looked every few days in hopes of finding a place I didn't think of before. I looked for it yesterday morning. On my hands and knees, I searched once more. I even looked in my bookcase on top of books, behind them, you name it. I was talking to Kirby throughout the entire mission and he was all, I don't know where the hell it is. So I gave up. I mentally sent the mermaid my best wishes and decided I would get Sky a new toy to replace it.

I woke up today and headed toward the living room. I saw something on the floor and figured it was another one of Sky's toys she'd been playing with. But, no, it was...you guessed it...THE MERMAID.

Magically, there it was this morning, and I have absolutely no clue as to where it came from or how it got there...well. Sky put it there. Kirby certainly didn't because he doesn't do cat toys. (That's obvious, since they are beneath a dog. He says so.) I think this kitten has decided that she can drive me to distraction and does so on purpose. Like I said, she's a nut job. Or, I am.

Anyway, here's the proof, so when it goes missing again, I can look at this picture and prove that it exists. Really.

Cleaning Frenzy

2008-10-08T00:23:00.005-04:00

So today I continued my neurotic cleaning frenzy. (For the last week and a half I have cleaned every surface, emptied every closet and drawer possible.) This morning, I realized there were more opportunities to make my hands look like I rubbed them in sand for a week. I cleaned the overhead fan...it is so old that when I cleaned the dirt off the blades the paint came off with it so now it looks dirty even though it's really clean! I guess I'll have to take the blades down and spray paint them or something. I'm lucky that the glass things over the bulbs didn't break when I took them off to wash them. Sigh. So then I went to the bathroom and I got down with my favorite cleaning brush and scrubbed the tile behind the toilet with bleach...and the base, and those pesky stupid pain in the ass screws that hold down the toilet. Because of course the covers on those screws are totally loose and are there... just because. Then I wanted to make sure that there were no residual chemicals because Sky likes to make hockey pucks out of the covers of those pesky stupid pain in the ass screws that hold down the toilet, so I poured all kinds of water down there and mopped it up with rags. Then I had to wash all the rags. Then I decided that I needed to clean my vacuum cleaner, so I emptied it...and realized that there was all this dust in the vents. (I have a Dyson so it's got all kinds of stuff to make sure it sucks the crap out of everything it comes into contact with.) So, I got the bright idea that I would use my new dust buster to suck all the dust off the vents of the Dyson. Which was not all that brilliant of an idea, after all was said and done. I started dust busting the dust on the vacuum. It got a lot of the dust out of the little vents. Then I banged the Dyson container on the tile...and what do you know, all kinds of dust came out, all over the tile. So I thought, hmmm...I better do that again (I always get into trouble when I say that) just to make sure that there isn't any more in there...and....wham, out came a pile. So I dust busted that. By this time the dust buster is getting full, and I go to empty it. I pull the thing apart, and out comes all this dust, NOT going into the garbage, but all over ME. I was supremely pissed off by this time. So I put the Dyson back together, and vacuumed up all the dust that had accumulated on the tile, pulled the dust buster completely apart and sucked the crap out of every part of that, put it back together, cleaned the tile, and called it a day.

Tomorrow, I'm pulling the Dyson apart and giving it the cleaning it deserves because it caused me so much grief today. And I will do so with a vengeance.

Tonight I realized that Sky likes to pee in the box the very minute after I have cleaned it for the night. I had developed this routine of sweeping the dirt from the kitchen into the laundry room and dust busting it before I cleaned the box. Well. Tonight I realized that this was counter productive since the little hussy does her last pee of the night right after I clean the box, and then tracks litter through the kitchen, causing me to sweep the floor YET AGAIN. I have now decided that I will wait to sweep until after I have cleaned her box. What a light bulb moment that was.

So that was my day. How was yours?

Curtain Incident, P.S.

2008-10-06T09:46:00.003-04:00

In my clearing out of STUFF, I came across...a water bottle! I have situated it within reach of the curtains. This, I hope, will startle the stuffing out of Sky when she attempts her next acrobatic exercise up the curtains. Or blinds. Or book case. Or counter. Or...who knows with her? Anything is a new possibility.

The Curtain Incident

2008-10-05T00:17:00.005-04:00

My friend Drew was over the other night watching tv and playing with Sky. He must have infused her with some kind of kitty energy because when he left...well. She was on the ottoman next to my chair as I tried to read a book that has been very hard to get through, so I was really concentrating. So, I didn't notice at first that Sky was viewing the ceiling...which, as I later realized, she was sizing up to see how to get there. So I'm sitting there, reading. I see her out of the corner of my eye jumping down to the floor from the ottoman. *DID NOT SEE THIS COMING* There's a movement at the bottom of the curtains, and before I could open my mouth, this cat was up to my height, working her way to the ceiling! No lie! So I jump out of my chair, which startled her, I think, and I got around the ottoman, reached out and grabbed her, and she would not let go. Nope, she was holding on in the hope of getting to the ceiling. I had to pull each paw from the material...and of course as I did that, the other one would go back to clutching. It was a war of wills. Eventually, I won out and cradled her in my arms. She looked so sweet. It just goes to show you, all that glitters is not gold at times!!

Her world is opening up. She sees things now, curiously looking at everything. She wants to be in the middle of everything going on. When she isn't trying to see how everything works, she is entertaining herself with her toys. Most notably, tiny balled up pieces of paper that she bats around and then carries them in her mouth. It's very amusing to watch her do this. I have a furry little toddler bouncing around my house now. And I am SO PROUD of Kirby for the way he is dealing with it in his quiet, dignified, playful attitude. He is just so ... good. In the best sense of the word.

Sky has given me a different outlook on my life. The "things" I have really aren't that important. Especially since they have all become kitty toys. Getting rid of so much STUFF has been very good for me. It clears the mind. Getting rid of clutter leaves a lot of room for orderly thought.

Ah, this little kitten. She is a catalyst for me. It's strange, but it's true. I'm learning about cats through her, and I'm learning about myself in the process. Hmmm.

Unity Prayer of Protection

2008-09-30T02:26:00.003-04:00

I have been thinking about this prayer off and on for a few weeks. It's a beautiful prayer. I know I have posted it within a post about Davene Davis, but since I think it's so beautiful, I just want to put it out there again. I just find so much comfort in it.

The Light of God surrounds us;
the Love of God enfolds us;
the Power of God protects us;
the Presence of God watches over us;
wherever we are,
God is
and all is well!

This says it all for me. Thank you God, for loving me.

High Maintenance

2008-09-30T00:14:00.006-04:00

There's a big difference between a dog and a cat. Above, you will notice many toys. And that is just a representation of what this kitten plays with.

Below, you will notice a bear. Period. Kirby gets playful and...goes for the bear.

I am beginning to understand the basic differences between dogs and cats. Maintenance people, high maintenance.

Settling In

2008-09-22T23:13:00.004-04:00

We have come to agree on a routine, Sky and I, that includes cleaning the litter box every night. So tonight I went to the laundry room and got everything ready, and Sky decided, for the first time, to inspect the process. Sliding into home plate, she slammed into the trash can. Quickly composing herself, she popped her tail straight up and began looking around the place.

Everything was inspected. The plastic bag made interesting sounds. The scooper got a sniff. But what got her rapt attention was the sound the scooper made as I moved it around the box. She seemed to think that she could get at that sound from the outside of the box. She batted at the sound, looked inside and watched the scooper, then madly went around the outside. I stopped and looked at her, nutty little kitten. She waited for the sound to begin again. When it didn't, she was like, what? So, just to see her do it again, I moved the scooper around. It was pretty amusing.

When that part was done - the suck factor is pretty high - I turned to get fresh litter. Sky was all, what are you doing, and what have you done to this thing? So I opened the container and started pouring out litter. She stuck her front paws in and really reveled in watching the pile get higher. She stuck her paw out, and I poured some on it. That startled her...but, hey, you want to be in the middle of things, so watch where you stick your paws!

I put the container back, and began smoothing out the fresh litter. This was a fascinating process, apparently. Sky hopped in the box and started chasing the scooper as it went back and forth. When I finally got the fact that she wasn't going to let me make this litter smooth like that little Zen garden with the stones and the little rake, I gave up.

Standing up, I put the scooper back in its place. She stood in the box. I looked at her, with my hands on my hips, and shook my head. She promptly squatted, looking at me the whole time. No shame, that one. Not one inkling of shame.

A Happy Boy

2008-09-21T21:42:00.007-04:00

Early this evening Kirby and Sky were playing quite strenuously. They chased each other around the house; Sky sat still while Kirby licked her all over. They laid next to each other beside my chair. After a bit more carousing, Kirby hopped up next to me and I took this picture. It makes me smile.

Tiny Tornado Strikes Innocent Victim

2008-09-21T01:13:00.008-04:00

People: the other morning I woke up to the sound of breaking glass. In my bedroom. Next to my bed. The tiny white tornado had struck again, stealthily in broad daylight. The glass, placed upon a bookshelf, was quite heavy. It was a candle holder I'd kept for many years. In one fell swoop, Sky sent it flying through the air to its demise. Did I say that broken glass looks pretty in the morning light?

This afternoon I went into my closet to start the laundry. I stopped short, because, well, my clothes were in the hallway. As if some heart broken lover was going through her wardrobe to rid herself of outfits that reminded her of her beloved, the shirts and blouses...and dare I say, a bra or two...were strewn out the doorway, one on top of the other. As I entered into the closet, (a walk in, thank God) I saw a white kitten hanging on the shoulder of a sweater that will never be worn again. By anyone. I startled the little blue eyed hussy in mid climb, and she froze. Slowly, she turned her head around to look at me, all the while hanging onto this sweater, still hanging in mid air, mind you. I think at that moment the world stood still for her. Then, from the position of hanging on the sweater that shall forever remain nameless, she just...dropped to the floor. Just let go, I tell you. And off she scrambled, around my ankles, out the closet, across the strewn clothes, straight to under the bed.

In the aftermath, as I stood in the middle of my closet, I sized up the situation. Damage control, my friends. There were empty hangers, clothes hanging half off them. There were hangers on the floor. I looked down and I was standing on one of my favorite shirts. I don't know how Sky managed this all by her little angel self, but I do know that Kirby had nothing to do with it. He has a distinct dislike of my taste in clothing.

A short time later, I heard some unusual thuds. I poked my head out of the closet and looked both ways: nothing. I stepped out, turned into the bedroom and found...a kitten in my bookcase. Rather, half a kitten in my book case. The first part of the kitten was in shoulder deep, throwing out my collection of children's books to the floor. The second part of the kitten was wedging itself so that the whole kitten didn't fall with them. I said a rather loud, "HEY!" and she slowed her frenzy but did not stop. I figure she knew she was caught and decided to get while the getting was good. I walked up and firmly grabbed her tiny butt and pulled her out. I held her under her armpits and sized her up. She was getting some of my admiration. Begrudgingly.

Progress

2008-09-13T00:46:00.003-04:00

Well, internet, the litter box issue has been resolved for the moment. I went to the pet store and bought the biggest litter box I could find with a guard at the top of it. I went home, found the existing box in a state of turmoil. Sky had decided to use the rugs for toys and had rearranged them for her playing pleasure. I took one look in there, turned around and got a big trash bag and put the whole damn litter box inside the bag and put it out at the curb. No playing around there.

So, then I took the new, pristine, fresh and clean model out, wiped it out just in case, and placed it on the freshly shook out rugs. I have to say, it was a sight to behold. There it was, waiting for clean kitty litter, fresh with promise and hope.

I decided that the before and after pictures of the litter box situation would not be the reason that readers returned to this blog, so I left those out. Trust me when I say that the new box is ... GREAT. I will find out by tomorrow if this is the magic box, and you will be the first to know. Consider yourselves lucky insiders on this.

We're Having Issues ...

2008-09-11T22:02:00.006-04:00

Internet, I'm not totally down with the litter situation. This kitten throws it around like she is having a party back there where her box is. It's between the wall and the rugs, all over the rugs, under the washer, thrown across to the dryer, traipsed out to the kitchen. Need I go on?

I'm in kitty boot camp, man. It's not so bad.

An Unusually Quiet Moment

2008-09-10T15:33:00.005-04:00

Here is Sky. She is very pretty, and very cuddly when she is in the mood to be.

I took this during her quiet period, which seems to be after the chaos and mayhem of the late night and early morning. She tires, then mellows out before starting it all up again in the late afternoon.

The lamp behind her was NOT laying against the wall before she decided that this would be a good resting place.

Sky High

2008-09-09T23:51:00.011-04:00

Well, well. My sweet little companion for Kirby and me has shown a more sinister side lately. I have been bringing home little toys for her, and today found this scratching post made out of corrugated cardboard for her to scratch merrily away on. So earlier in the day, I hear some rather industrious scratching going on, and I think, good, great, she's found something to draw her away from the furniture! I get up to look, and, no...wait...this isn't right...it's ...it's...WET. The Princess has peed on her scratching post. The earlier industrious scratching was her attempt to COVER IT UP.

Hmm. Now, I'm not a cat person, and I have no idea if this is normal or what. So, she is sweetly looking up at me, as I am looking down at her with consternation. I pick her up, all 4 pounds of her, and march into the laundry room, and put her in her litter box, explaining that THIS IS THE PROPER PLACE TO PEE. She did not look pleased.

I found a baby gate to reach almost across the width of the door to the laundry room. There is just enough room for Sky to get through. I showed her that she could do this to get to her litter box. Happily, it leaves no room for Kirby to squeeze his fat body through, so no more litter storms, searching for buried treasure. That dog was putting his two front paws IN THE BOX to hold it down as he searched. So in the process, litter flew everywhere. (Our earlier conversations about investigating other people's private places apparently went in one ear and out the other.)

I dragged my Dyson-Never-Loses-Suction vaccuum cleaner out and sucked the entire laundry room free of any litter available to be sucked up. Then I placed new fuzzy bath mats down, to be sure to catch all of the flying litter, and put the box on top of the new mats. I decided I would give the Princess a chance to show me just what she could do with litter. At this moment, I have yet to go in there. Just not ready, people. Just not ready.

A New Addition

2008-09-09T01:48:00.004-04:00

Although I can't make blogger cooperate at the moment, I will post a picture of my new kitten. Her name is Sky. She is quite a companion. She is 4 and a half months old. She is not afraid of Kirby, but Kirby has woken from a daze and is now chasing her around the house like a Nascar driver in the fast lane.

More to come about Sky...I thought she'd be a gentle addition to the house so that we could transition a sweet companion for Kirby, and for me. Well! The best laid plans, my friends. The best laid plans...

She is quite lovely, a mix of Siamese and grey tabby, with beige stripes on her thighs. Really, she reminds me of a Bengal Tiger. Her looks are really quite exotic. I will be more than happy to share her with you as soon as I can figure out a way to get blogger to cooperate with me.

More to come.

News of the New Addition

2008-09-09T01:45:00.003-04:00

As I write this, Sky is walking all over the desk and meowing....and jumping down, and meowing, and walking around my legs, and meowing, and jumping up on the desk again, and meowing...she's going to be vocal, that one.

I moved her litter box! I just couldn't stand it in the tub. The litter is all over the tile...and, well, just, YUK. So, it has been moved to the laundry room. Kirby and I will be having on-going conversations about bathroom etiquette and how you don't inspect other people's private places! He's been a real angel about this whole situation, so I am sure that he will be open to impromptu conversations about people's private places.

Sky has begun using her nails on the backs of my old furniture. I am not happy about this, but glad that it's the old stuff she has chosen. I have to clip those nails tomorrow. It rankles me to hear her do that. And then run away like a little culprit!

All this activity has been going on since I got back from dinner! I sat in my chair and she came over and started making biscuits on me, purring really loudly, playing with me...as she gets more comfortable I expect I will have quite a companion. At the moment she is walking right in front of my keyboard so that I have to look over her to see the screen. (Nothing like kitty butt in your face as you type.) Now she is on top of the chair behind me looking for the next place to jump to. I suppose I deserve a night animal since I am up so late but gee whiz, she is really active. And that meow!

Well, there's something falling in the kitchen and it sounds broken so I'd better go in there and assess the damage.

New kitty mother out.

Gratitude

2008-08-16T00:28:00.005-04:00

Kirby's health has caused me to reflect on the past. He has been with me through some very beautiful times in my life. He was there when I wrote the poems I've just posted. They come from my quite place. My sacred space. I don't know why I have held on to them so long.

There they are, a few of them for you to see. A window into my soul. A frozen spot in time that will live forever inside of me. I equate them with feelings of love, and I am happy that I can articulate those moments. Now I can visit them once again.

It gives me hope to read them. Hope that I can once again tap into my sacred, quiet place where the words flow and create the images I see in my mind's eye....my heart's eye.

For today, I am grateful for the moments I have had in my life that were pure and sweet. Moments with Kirby, moments with memory of things I have seen and remember vividly. Moments I can translate for others to follow along, hoping that the images are there for them to see along with me.

Silent Song

2008-08-16T00:22:00.004-04:00

Silent Song

To my Grandmother

Standing
an assembled chorus
dressed in leaves
of Spring's rebirth
The old trees
dressed anew
raise their branches
to the sky
and silently
sing

The Summer Of Ava and Laura

2008-08-16T00:15:00.003-04:00

Summer

For Ava and Laura

How sweet the summer must be
to two little girls
who sit in the same wicker chair
on a warm evening

One holding a bunny
the other leaning her head
on her sister's shoulder

How smooth the breeze must be
how mild the sunset

How sweet the summer must be
to two little girls
who sit in the same wicker chair

One evening years from now
they will look at pictures
and smile with each other
as they remember that wicker chair

Maybe one leaning her head
on her sister's shoulder

Copyright ©2008 Catherine Stapleton

The Melody

2008-08-16T00:08:00.005-04:00

The Melody

A tender melody
floating in and out of my life
you come and warm me with your quiet
cuddling beneath the sheets
to lay your head on my belly

The warmth of our joining
has no real word
like sunlight on my skin

You are a tender melody
during the day
your song plays in my mind and heart freely
like a breeze
blowing in my window
playing with the curtains

Copyright ©2008 Catherine Doris Stapleton

My Wish For Him

2008-08-05T23:48:00.019-04:00

"Him that I love, I wish to be
Free -
Even from me."
Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Mortality is a far off thing I avoid thinking about. It's so easy to put it on the outside of my universe. Thankfully life has been kind enough to allow me to keep it that way for a time. Until today.

Kirby has cancer. An ultrasound and a biopsy say so. It's amazing to me that he looks no different than he did last week, acting pretty much the same as always except for that short while where he seemed to feel a little ill. Today they shaved his belly and used an ultrasound machine to find tumors and masses, then sedated him to do a fine needle biopsy.

We will make a few changes to his diet. He can no longer eat his usual food and now has to have prescription canned food. A new medication might be added to stave off the growth of some of the tumors. These changes are small in the big scheme of things. I am happy to do whatever I need to in order for Kirby to be comfortable and happy.

As I waited through the day to hear his progress and find out when I could go to pick him up, I realized that this day marked the end of long period in Kirby's life. He has been healthy.

Kirby...just his name is endearing. He is a little imp with perky ears, soulful eyes, and a waggy tail. He is the one I come home to. The little face peeking out to see how long it will take me to get out of the car and into the house. My Protector Of The Front Windows, barking at all who dare to cross the sidewalk in front of them. He has licked away countless tears, sat with me through the darkest of days and nights. He has been my constant friend, confidante and playmate.

Whatever will I do without him to come home to? What an empty place to call home - some place where he is not.

My love for him transcends my own needs, though, and when the time comes, whether it's tomorrow or next year, I won't hesitate to take care of any pain he feels. If I can't give him a good quality of life, a life that includes that waggy little tail, then I will hold him in my arms while he makes his way to the Rainbow Bridge.

I want him to be free.

Click here to find more about the Rainbow Bridge.

A Trip To The Vet

2008-07-31T22:55:00.027-04:00

Gotta love that tongue.

The other day, I noticed that Kirby had not eaten his food in a while, and I made a mental note of it. I noticed the next morning that he still hadn't eaten it, and I couldn't tell if he had touched his water, either. In the mean time, I also started to notice that I could feel his backbone in a way I never had before, but attributed it to the aging process. Even so, I felt this sinking feeling in my gut. So I called the vet and made an appointment. (It's totally unlike Kirby to not eat.)

So we get to the vet's office blissfully unaware. Kirby, so familiar with the vet's office, sniffs all the shrubs outside the office, the walk way, each blade of grass...then the entry way; making his way into the office, he takes note of all the smells and scenery, checking for other animals in the room. He misses Chaos, the office cat, who has found my open umbrella and in one movement is inside it making funny noises and getting his head stuck in the metal ribs. The material is moving with this swish-swish sound that bothers Kirby only momentarily. He finds the scale, walks on it and it registers 23.6...meaning he has lost 4 pounds over the last few months. Then Kirby saunters over to say hello to the women behind the desk, slowly wagging his tail. I get him back from behind the desk, and he settles down to sit at my feet. We wait. Then we are told to go into our exam room. Dr J puts Kirby on the table and feels his belly as I tell him what is going on. After a general look-see, he casually says that he wants to do an x-ray of his belly. (It's important to note that Dr J is a very hands-off kind of guy and generally has the First Do No Harm thing going on.) Then he says he wants another angle. Then Jennifer, the aide, pulls out the light box and says that Dr J will be in to discuss the x-rays.

As soon as Jennifer pulls out the light box, I have a sinking feeling that something bad is about to happen. I am right. Dr J shows me Kirby's liver on the x-ray, a big white blob that starts on his left side, extending all the way to where his stomach is supposed to be on the right side. His little stomach is not where it is supposed to be. Dr J says that Kirby's liver is pretty enlarged, that his stomach doesn't look the way it's supposed to. He suggests blood work and if that comes back normal enough that he wants to do an ultrasound. The blood work comes back fairly normal, so the ultrasound is set up for Tuesday morning.

I am struggling with anticipatory grief and fear, but I also have the feeling that Kirby isn't going to be leaving me within the next few weeks, at least. I can't tell if I hear my intuition or not. Jackie reminded me tonight of something I told her just yesterday: "Quiet, please. God is at work." And God IS at work. I just have to take a deep breath and remember that. Then I'm sure I'll hear what I need to hear.

Quiet, Please

2008-07-20T23:50:00.020-04:00

This morning I attended Sunday service at Unity Church of Christianity. You can click here to see the home page. Our Reverend Bob Marshall is on a sabbatical and there have been guest speakers to fill in while he is away. Today, we had the privilege of having Reverend Davene Davis as our guest speaker.

The topic of her talk was, "Moving from Fear to Freedom." Her first words for the meditation were: "Quiet, Please. God is Here." I so wish I could recount the meditation and the talk she gave. I left with peace in my heart. "God is Here." As I write this, I realize that He truly is. Davene has a way of reminding you of simple things that are most profound.

"God is Here." When Davene said that, I took a big sigh in and let it out with relief. It takes some reminding for me to know that God is nearby. Right next to me, inside me, within my heart.

Davene is the third Unity Minister in her family. She speaks with the knowledge of her heart, her education, her love of God. She has a captivating style of preaching. She leads you from one point to the next on a spiritual map that you'd forgotten existed. The map that leads you back to your own heart, your own spirit, your own relationship with God.

I had forgotten my connection with God. I had forgotten how to get back to Him. Davene, today, reminded me that He is as close as a whisper, a thought. "Quiet, Please, God is Here." It's a request, a reminder, a mantra. It makes things holy.

At the end of every service, we sing the Peace Song that starts, "Let Peace begin with me, let this be the moment now..." we hold hands, each one of us, and sing that song. The connectedness I feel from that simple act reaffirms my faith in people, in God. After we sing the Peace Song, we raise our hands, still held together, and pray the Prayer of Protection:

The light of God surrounds us.
The love of God enfolds us.
The power of God protects us.
The presence of God watches over us.
Wherever we are, God is,
And ALL is WELL!

I wanted to connect with Davene on the way out of church and I got a chance to hug her and tell her how much I miss her. I wish she came to us more often. I will be connecting with her, for sure, some other way. Today, she reminded me : "Quiet, Please. God is Here." I will be remembering that as I go through this next week.

Thank God for Davene Davis. Thank God for the reminder that He is Here.

Success!

2008-07-13T17:49:00.002-04:00

Well, it worked! It's a little complicated since you have to know the code to insert into the text.Perhaps it just becomes second nature after you do it a few times. I'm learning!

Making a word a link

2008-07-13T17:42:00.004-04:00

Let's see if I can execute an experiment: I want to embed a link into my post by using just one word. I want to link you to the blog ***Sparkletopia*** here.

On Being Brave

2008-07-12T23:53:00.009-04:00

Like the quote below from Eleanor Roosevelt suggests, I am trying a new project that will require bravery. On the Diary of a Self Portrait blog, Jessie Marianiello has challenged herself to do one brave thing a day. She began the challenge last year, but has revisited it recently. She has gotten LOTS of comments about the challenge and it has inspired many women to step out of their comfort zone to do ... something brave.

So in the spirit of where I am in my growth process, I am beginning this challenge for myself. Putting out this blog was one of my bravest acts of late. More recently I have had practice with setting boundaries, which is something not for the faint of heart. It definitely takes a brave person, or bravery in the moment, to set a boundary. To say NO. The Universe is conspiring for my highest good, and there will be many more opportunities to exercise this right to say NO, until I get it down pat. Saying NO is standing up for myself, protecting the little one inside who never had the chance to. Bravery...every time I have the chance, I will take it. At least, that's the plan.

On the right hand side of this blog you will see a button that says, "one thing Be Brave," which you can click on. It will bring you to the Diary of a Self Portrait blog, where Jessie Marianiello is walking her own challenge. You'll be able to read about it there. It's inspiring. It's do-able. It's cool.

Eleanor Roosevelt...Be Brave

2008-07-12T23:50:00.002-04:00

"Do one thing every day that scares you."
~Eleanor Roosevelt

Thought for the day

2008-07-12T23:35:00.001-04:00

"The transformation of one individual becomes a source of and a catalyst for the transformation in others." -Andrew Cohen

Tired Kirby

2008-07-08T17:17:00.005-04:00

All day, I have been trying to take a picture of Kirby that represents his personality. I've taken pictures of his nose (you'll see that later on), his eyes, laying down, standing up. By the end of the afternoon, this is what he looked like.

I've been feeling this way, too. Life has been difficult lately. How tiring it can be!

Hope

2008-07-06T18:12:00.002-04:00

"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning." -- Louis L'Amour

Dramatic Look

2008-07-02T00:04:00.001-04:00

This is one funny prairie dog!

A Change

2008-06-27T15:10:00.003-04:00

I have changed my mind about the color/template of this blog. The green was overwhelming me. I like the white much better. It's cleaner. Hope you like it.

Freedom

2008-06-26T11:49:00.002-04:00

Freedom and I have been together 10 years this summer. She came in as a baby in 1998 with two broken wings. Her left wing doesn't open all the way even after surgery, it was broken in 4 places. She's my baby.

When Freedom came in she could not stand. Both wings were broken, her left wing in 4 places. She was emaciated and covered in lice. We made the decision to give her a chance at life, so I took her to the vet's office. From then on, I was always around her. We had her in a huge dog carrier with the top off, and it was loaded up with shredded newspaper for her to lay in. I used to sit and talk to her, urging her to live, to fight; and she would lay there looking at me with those big brown eyes. We also had to tube feed her for weeks.

This went on for 4-6 weeks, and by then she still couldn't stand. It got to the point where the decision was made to euthanize her if she couldn't stand in a week. You know you don't want to cross that line between torture and rehab, and it looked like death was winning. She was going to be put down that Friday, and I was supposed to come in on that Thursday afternoon. I didn't want to go to the center that Thursday, because I couldn't bear the thought of her being euthanized; but I went anyway, and when I walked in everyone was grinning from ear to ear. I went immediately back to her dowl cage; and there she was, standing on her own, a big beautiful eagle. She was ready to live. I was just about in tears by then. That was a very good day.

We knew she could never fly, so the director asked me to glove train her. I got her used to the glove, and then to jesses, and we started doing education programs for schools in western Washington. We wound up in the newspapers, radio (believe it or not) and some TV. Miracle Pets even did a show about us.

In the spring of 2000, I was diagnosed with non-hodgkins lymphoma. I had stage 3, which is not good (one major organ plus everywhere), so I wound up doing 8 months of chemo. Lost the hair - the whole bit. I missed a lot of work. When I felt good enough, I would go to Sarvey and take Freedom out for walks. Freedom would also come to me in my dreams and help me fight the cancer. This happened time and time again.

Fast forward to November 2000, the day after Thanksgiving, I went in for my last checkup. I was told that if the cancer was not all gone after 8 rounds of chemo, then my last option was a stem cell transplant. Anyway, they did the tests; and I had to come back Monday for the results. I went in Monday, and I was told that all the cancer was gone. Yahoo!

So the first thing I did was get up to Sarvey and take the big girl out for a walk.. It was misty and cold. I went to her flight and jessed her up, and we went out front to the top of the hill. I hadn't said a word to Freedom, but somehow she knew. She looked at me and wrapped both her wings around me to where I could feel them pressing in on my back (I was engulfed in eagle wings), and she touched my nose with her beak and stared into my eyes, and we just stood there like that for I don't know how long. That was a magic moment. We have been soul mates ever since she came in. This is a very special bird.

On a side note: I have had people who were sick come up to us when we are out, and Freedom has some kind of hold on them. I once had a guy who was terminal come up to us and I let him hold her. His knees just about buckled and he swore he could feel her power course through his body. I have so many stories like that.

I never forget the honor I have of being so close to such a magnificent spirit as Freedom's.

Jeff

Pondering

2008-06-26T07:24:00.009-04:00

Well, I have been thinking for a while about what this blog should be about, or rather, how to present my thoughts in a cohesive way. It turns out that this is no easy task. I have many interests. From what I've read so far, a specific interest will draw readers to this site. So what to focus on? My life is not terribly active at the moment, but my interests are, so perhaps I should talk about them. yarnharlot.com, or Dooce.com are amazing blogs. I find that Dooce.com is more along the lines of where I'd like to go, but how?

I need to figure out what's important to me beside Kirby, God love him. And then talk about it. Show you pictures of what I come across and then write about it. And so I will.

Stay tuned.

Some Great Pictures Of My Boy

2008-06-22T08:56:00.006-04:00

These are two photos I took from my cell phone. The quality is horrible, but oh, what a face! It would seem that I caught him being playful and then rethinking the whole thing!

Kirby today

2008-06-22T00:09:00.005-04:00

It would seem that technology is not cooperating with me today since I want to post some new pictures of My Boy but I'm not able to at the moment. I'll post them as soon as Blogger gets their stuff together.

He was an angel today. I was gone almost all day and didn't get back till like almost 11:20 pm. He was so happy to see me! I am so blessed with him. He just wants to be near me, as he is right now behind me on the bed.

I can't wait to get a new camera so I can start taking pictures of his nose. He has the most exquisite nose hairs! Oh, those soft little whiskers just asking to be kissed. He has the very best nose in the whole wide world. The BEST.

P.S.

2008-06-20T17:35:00.004-04:00

I forgot to mention that I have a Kirby blog. There's a link on this page called All About Kirby. I'll be posting stuff there from time to time. The story of how we met is there.

A Little About Kirby

2008-06-20T17:29:00.005-04:00

Here's a picture of Kirby. I am realizing that I don't have a lot of pictures of him...and I'm going to remedy that since he brings so much light into my life. I want to capture him in his special moments, in the moments that make me sigh or laugh or moments that catch my breath. I'll be sharing those with you as I get them.

For now, here he is, in that sweet little sleepy place. I just love that boy.

A Thought About Light

2008-06-19T12:40:00.007-04:00

I was thinking this morning about changing the color of my blog page. The title would make you think that it's primarily about darkness, but really, it's the exploration into the light, too. And if I were to be in the light, I would choose the spring time, where the tree leaves are that new baby soft fuzzy light green when you look up at them, and they dapple you with soft sunlight. The header has that sort of look to it, don't you think?

So I'm keeping the colors as they are.

Today is shaping up to be a good day. The weather here in Central Florida is sunny (what else is new?) but there is little humidity which for me means a good day. Kirby, my saintly beagle mix who has turned 13 recently I think, has been out in the sunshine for a bit and now he is behind me on the bed as I write this. Now I ask you, what could be better than that?

A Good Day

2008-06-18T21:25:00.008-04:00

So Evelyn, who I fondly refer to as "my computer lady", came by yesterday. She's a free spirit. It's so interesting to find someone grounded and spiritual who is so involved in technology. The fascinating thing is that with the technology, she reaches out to the Universe. She's so connected! It's fabulous. I don't get to see her much - until my computer does some wacky thing or decides to crawl at a slug's pace - and when I do I am reminded of that sweet spirit of hers.

Evelyn taught me some stuff about blogging yesterday. In the process, she reminded me of something about life. There's a community in blogging. In the midst of chronicling your life, people will make comments on your blog that may be completely full of negativity and judgement. She reminded me that when you read someone's writing, you are seeing a slice of who they are, a day, a moment in their life. Judging a post is just like judging someone you see in real life. That really made me think. Hopefully my posts will bring comments - positive ones - but if they bring negative ones, I'll think differently about them. I'll remember that I can be somewhat removed from the emotion of what I read, and that I can decide to ignore it, even, if I want to. She's really something, that Evelyn.

You'll see that I've posted some really cool widgets. I'm learning about layout and how to put stuff on the page. It's fun! It's reminded me that I like to have fun. I've been so serious lately that I forgot that it's ok to enjoy myself and indulge in laughter. I'm working on a positive mindset today. Who knows what tomorrow brings? I just know that for now, thanks to Evelyn, my dear computer lady, I am good. And that's great.

An Unexpected Episode

2008-06-10T01:04:00.002-04:00

The other day I was triggered emotionally by a book I was reading. It lead me to a very dark place, a place I have avoided for 30 years. I was very fortunate to be going to group therapy that afternoon. Our group sessions start with a meditation. During the meditation, I couldn't concentrate at all. I could hardly breathe. My chest began to hurt.I wound up shocking myself by speaking of this old and dark place for the entire session. I broke the code of silence that had become my life. I described the terrible things that have lived in this dark place.

Speaking, during which I could hardly breathe from crying so hard, I did something I have never done: I opened up the door to the past. Literally, I felt my chest open and all the evil came spilling out. I felt ashamed. Shame that I was involved in any way with what had happened. Shame that I was even visible in that room. After the words came out, I knew that I could never take them back. Knowing this had kept me from telling for all these years. But wisdom came from my therapist. She simply said that it was time.

After I finished telling the story as best as I could, I was exhausted. I felt that I could sleep a thousand days and still not find rest. My chest hurt so much I thought I was having a heart attack. I realized that this must be what grief feels like, the heart ripping kind of grief that has never been expressed. My therapist, my gentle, wise, understanding therapist, told me that I needed to look at my group members, that it would help begin the process of getting rid of the shame. So, I lifted my head to find each one so open and loving; not any of the things I feared were there. Just love and compassion, tears of understanding. It was a room full of safe people who just felt love for me.

Since the time in that room, I have felt an odd sense that my chest is still open, that the secret is out there somewhere in front of me and I cannot reign it back in. I can't make it do what I want it to do. I want it to go away; I want it to disappear. Now, though, I have spoken its name and it has come to life. Memories are coming back clearly to me now. Murky images are surfacing from the water. I am hearing the sounds of that time. It is all very disturbing and painful.

I don't want to visit there again, but I must go there in order to work on weeding out the evil and creating a space for good.

Clearing out the darkness and letting in the light.

What Is This Blog About?

2008-05-30T23:45:00.004-04:00

You know, I have spent a lot of time in the dark. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I have been lost a lot in my life. Sometimes I have thought that I would never find my way again; the thing is, I think I have. I think I have been exactly where I was supposed to be all of my life. That doesn't mean it felt that way, or that it feels that way right now. But, I am on my path. I know this to be true.

Physically...I have spent a lot of time in the dark, when I was so terribly sad that I just couldn't bear the light. The blinds closed, I would just let time pass by silently. The pain gave me no choice, it seemed. It was immobilizing, weighing me down as though there was an invisible force sitting on top of me, smothering me.

I write in the dark. My blinds are almost always closed where my computer is. I'm not sure if that is intentional, but it is a fact. Quiet is important to me when I write these days. It, along with the darkness, helps me to focus. You know, I used to have a house that was light and airy and bright. The sun shone cheerily and it made me happy to be there. I miss that a lot. It was not that long ago in the big scheme of things. The apartments I have lived in since have not been bright at all. There is a parallel to be drawn here: I lived in that sunny house until my relationship disintegrated. That was when I began to fall -literally- out of the light.

Mentally...now that's a bit of a challenge to talk about. Maybe I'll save that for later.

Emotionally...Navigating my way in emotional darkness has been difficult. You connect with people where you are. And so it was with me...and many times, still is. The emotional darkness is a familiar place that I visit still. It is easy to connect with people who are in emotional darkness. You bump into your own reality, a feeling that is vaguely familiar but it is in another person. I need to learn the ropes. Navigating is an art I am in the process of learning. It feels as though I am learning Chinese or something, a foreign language I just can't get. Like algebra.One of the parts in that process is finding a star to guide me in the emotional darkness, to illuminate my way, so that I can begin to understand the Chinese...the charts of emotional navigating out of the dark.

Right now in my life I am exploring my emotions. Actually, I am finding them and identifying them, one by one. It's painful to face emotions. There's so much connected to them.

Spiritually...I choose to call my higher power God. My understanding of darkness and light in terms of my relationship with God is that God is there always. It's me who drifts in and out of the relationship. My God never wavers, never changes, never stops loving me. I forget that all the time. In my most difficult moments, I have run away and clung to this relationship almost simultaneously. Reaching out, running away in fear, both. I have had the exquisite knowing of being blessed. I have felt grace. I have known miracles. I am one.

I have also hidden in the corners of my life, away from God. I have forgotten the love I have been given. I have felt unworthy, unlovable, useless. I have felt like a piece of garbage, not worth the time it would take to put me in the trash. But, that was me staying away from God. That was what I felt, not what God is.

My image of God comes from 1 James verse 17: Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like the shifting shadows. (NIV) The Father of the heavenly lights. Isn't that a beautiful image? When I think about it, the image of it, I picture this star...a huge star bigger than the sun that doesn't twinkle, doesn't move. It just is. But the star is white, ethereal, static, unmoving. There is darkness all around it because it outshines anything else in the universe. It hums with the sound of the universe, the sound of God. I can't explain that sound, except to think of the "OM" sound. The sound that people in meditation make. The star I see never moves, never shifts, never changes. I think we all have a part of that star inside of us; some of us have it hidden so deep that you'd have to take a shovel to go in and get it. Some of us have it near the surface, and it comes out occasionally, when we feel it is safe for it to do so. And then there are some of us, very few of us, who truly know the connection, live the connection. See it in others and inspire others to remember its presence.

My best friend is one of those people. She literally shines from time to time, but most of the time she lives her life in such a way that people remember their light. She is one of God's true miracles. My relationship with her is part of the light of God. She remembers the song in my heart and sings it back to me when I forget it.

I have other friends who remind people of the light. They are in touch with the energy of the universe. They know the "OM." They remind me of my light, of the sound of God when I am with them. They are conduits to the Universe. Just learning their abilities, I count myself as an invited guest to witness the process. What a gift it is. These two, their lights, shine brightly.

Then there are others, those who have seen me in the midst of confusion and accepted me just where I was. They held my hand when I could not find my way. They cheered me on when I was wobbling, without any certainty at all, through my days. My small triumphs were big to them, and they made sure to point them out to me when I didn't see them. They would take me out into the world, into the sunlight, and surround me with life. I would withdraw again, but they did not give up. They never have.

I have been in spiritual darkness. I am coming out of one of those periods, I think. I have separated myself from God lately, and I think part of that is because...well...I'm not really sure why. I just know that I am feeling closer to God right now. I am seeing the effects of the great Star's presence. And I am grateful.

In a meditation recently, I was guided to a cave where I carried a light to go deeper into it. The cave in my meditation was an actual cave I went into in Hawaii. It was made of volcanic material, and the waves came in and out. The water was a beautiful aqua. You went in from the light and then it was darkness, but you could see the sea water clinging to the inside of the cave. The light I carried to see inside was a star, interestingly enough, in the palm of my hand, which I held up high. When I went deeper into the cave, there were three parts of me: the part that over eats, who is my addict, the writer who is scared to express her voice, and my little girl. My little girl is 5 or 6, dressed in a little blue jumper with a white long sleeve shirt underneath. She has long brown hair. She is innocent and very sweet. I feel love and protection for her. She is the one I was drawn to. In the meditation I was guided to decide if I wanted to take one, or all, out of the cave and into the light. I wasn't ready to take any of them with me. But, I looked at my sweet little girl and gently gave her the star, and told her she would be safe in that beautiful cave with the aqua green water to look out at. When I left the cave and went out into the Hawaiian sunlight, I knew that I would be back for them. Primarily for my little girl, but for all of them at some point. My little girl now holds the star of God, the part of me that is sacred, like her.

So, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually...I have been in the dark. But the light is there. I see it in others and I know it is within me. My job is to begin looking for it. I'm going to stub my toes and go bump in the night. I'm going to curse when I am lost in the middle of the room, when I have lost my bearings. I don't know if I will find a night light or not. I don't know what's in store. I only know that there will always be darkness, and there will always be light. I'm learning to live with both.

This is a start

2008-05-30T22:20:00.001-04:00

Sitting in the dark...