Old Rockin' Chair's Got Me

I'm feeling my age and a few years more. I'm still adjusting to my "little sister" turning 60 and now my "baby brother" is retiring from the fire department in a month. Two grandchildren turned 18 last week and I have four others already in their twenties; early 20's but 20's nevertheless. Yard work this spring isn't as easy as I think it should be. I've discovered sprinklers that need replacing and I can't get the old ones loose by myself. My tomatoes are hanging but they need more dirt and I need someone to come help me lift them down and re-hang them. I have other projects, inside and out, that impolitely remind me that I'm not in my 40's or even my 50's anymore. And then I get an invitation to my high school reunion, my 50 year reunion. 50 years? When did that happen? I thought about mowing the lawn today but by the time I took my nap it seemed like tomorrow might be a better day for it. Yep, old rocking chair's got me.

Maybe it's not me, maybe it's just the effect of this constantly changing weather. Ya think?

The Rocker's Been Quiet

I haven't posted anything all week because there's been nothing. The porch rocker has put forth no inspiration. The animals, the newly planted flowers, the weird weather - nothing has kicked loose any thoughts for sharing. Anyone who knows me would be aghast to hear me say, "I have nothing to say."

Life is carrying on, Katie and I are busy. We went to "the city" last Friday. I left her at Doggie Day Camp and joined three friends of mine, who/whom I haven't seen in forever, for lunch. It was really nice to spend time visiting and catching up with them. The little restaurant had great food and more of it than you can eat at one meal so I had a great dinner that night too.

I ran a couple of errands and before going back for Katie I stopped at Lowe's and picked up samples of wall paint. I have aspirations of painting my living room and hallway this year. I had the same aspirations last year but now I've gone so far as to pick up paint and bring it home so I can decide what color and shade I'm going with. Maybe I'll actually get it done this year. It could happen.

Happy Birthday Little Sister!

This year, much to her chagrin (and mine too,) my baby sister turns "the big 60". It's been a long and bumpy ride. I remember when my mom brought this little interloper in to our home. Mom had been divorced and remarried. I never knew my biological father and I worshipped this man I considered my dad and now I was supposed to share him. The baby was cute ... for a baby. When we moved to Venice (California,) where my folks worked in a hotel, mom would push the baby buggy across the street to the park and I would sit with her for however long. There were seven years between us, not conducive to a really close relationship when your little more than a toddler yourself and used to being the princess.

Later, in my teen years, she was conscripted into duty as mother's little spy. If I had company, I could count on her needing to be in the room. And parties ... somehow there was always a reason for her to be sent to join us. Now, true, she had a crush on one of the boys that hung with our crowd and all she wanted was "just one dance" but even after we moved and held our parties downstairs in the parking garages - after bedtime, guess who was sent to "see if we needed anything." As a little sister, she wasn't as bad as some. I think it was the age thing that was our problem. That and the fact that she was Mommy's girl.

As I grew older, married, and relocated, I thought it would be fun and romantic to take little sis back to the midwest with us for a vacation and some sisters bonding. Yeah well! Apparently I indulged in too much "happy families" reading.

And yet, we bonded. In spite of all the odds and our mom, we bonded. After I moved back to my hometown, she babysat. She'd spend an evening just keeping me company and sane. When we went through lousy relationships, divorces, illnesses, sick cats, we knew there was one person we could call who'd ask no questions but would simply help us out of yet another hole we'd dug ourselves into.

We took to visiting again and even vacationing together. We know today that no matter what else goes wrong in our worlds, we can count on little/big sister. We worry about each other and our animals. We don't get to spend a lot of time together (maybe that's a good thing) but we enjoy the visiting we do and we spend time keeping Verizon in business.

Just wanted to say, "I love you, Vicki 'rene. and I wish you a very special HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I wish we could celebrate it together with something really outlandish but meanwhile maybe we can visit by phone and lift a glass of wine together.

"Honey, I Watered Your Houseplants for You"

I was talking with a friend of mine last week and we were discussing spring outdoor gardening and our house plants. Sometimes it takes no more than a word to trigger a memory ...

My husband was one of those people who would NOT have a faux plant in the house. He hated them in restaurants and offices. He claimed he could tell fake from real by just looking; no need to touch or feel.

I was in the hospital having had a hip replacement and he came bounding into the room so pleased with himself. "Honey, I watered all your houseplants today." The lady in the bed next to me gave me a look that spoke volumes. Obviously, she'd lived this moment before. Okay, ready for it? Here goes: With all proper concern, he announced, "The ficus in the entryway isn't well, the water just poured through the container. It took me forever to clean and dry the floor. And I put the ficus outside on the porch where it can get some sun."

To our credit, we tried, but we were laughing so hard, the tears were flowing. He looked at me, he looked at her, he looked - confused. There was nothing to do but 'fess up. "Sweetie, that ficus isn't real. You were watering a faux ficus. There's nothing in the container to hold the water." Even today, just the memory of the look on his face dissolves me to tears of laughter.

Can you handle one more? This memory evokes a Mothers' Day when he brought me roses. He brought them home the night before and left them in the car intending to put them in the garage fridge overnight. Dinner, a beer ot two later, and they were forgotten ... 'til the next morning when he went out to the garage where the roses were still in the car - dead! When I walked into the kitchen I found a vase of dead roses with a card and a note that read, "brain dead don't count. I love you!!" The vase (dead roses and all,) card, and note stayed out for all to see for the rest of the day. The family shared many smiles at our Mothers' Day gathering. After all, as he reminded us (often,) "it's the thought that counts!"

Happy Mothers' Day! And it's NOT just the thought that counts; pick up the phone and call Mom.

Hurray! It's Springtime

What a perfect day! Katie and I spent most of the day outside (which isn't easy with her weird diet every four hours and the round-the-clock med's routine she's on.) My flower beds were all prepped over the weekend and we had stopped at Sierra Nursery on our way home yesterday. Today we filled one set of flower beds with 4 dozen impatiens and a smaller porch box with a dozen pansies. We placed a couple of shrubs by the fence to see if that's where I'll want them, and looked around the front yard and felt pretty proud of ourselves. After lunch we took a short walk and then Miss Kate headed for her den, apparently feeling she'd earned an afternoon nap.

Any excuse to stay outside and enjoy the sun, I cleaned and refilled the various bird feeders. Now, as evening's coming on, the birds are heading to their nests, the critters to their favorite dinner spots (Note to deer - the impatiens are not on the menu!)and then on to wherever they call home at night. The two-legged critters (neighbors) will begin to head up the road soon to their homes and their dinners. While I wait, I think I'll sit back in my front porch rocker and start my new book and then take in the view and watch the world as everyone and everything heads home. To borrow from and paraphrase Oliver Twist, "Please Sir, tomorrow may I have another?"

Katie's Scary Weekend

She's better. She's home. And she's literally worth her weight in platinum now.

If you've read my blogs or know me, you know my dog Katie. She's my one constant, often my reason for getting up in the mornings. The cats will take exception to this but they take exception to most things, especially relating to the dog. You rarely see me, anywhere, without her.

She took sick last week. At first she just seemed to have lost her energy (and that's not easy to tell). Then she didn't want to eat. "Ride in the Car?" or "Wanta go for a walk?" got no response. Saturday afternoon she took a turn for the worse. I'd taken her temp' that morning and it was 101, no big deal. By afternoon it was up to 104.5 and she had blood in her stool. Time for a drive down the mountain to the ER Vet. My friend, Jackie, came over and down we went. This little dog who loves to sit in the center of the front seats laid in the back and slept.

This is my best friend, my child, my constant companion. I can't begin to imagine a day without her. She's been there for me through all my traumas and adventures and just sitting and watching the sunset or my idea of a good TV show.

We arrived at the ER and a doctor saw her immediately and, as doctors are prone to do, gave me worst case and best case scenarios. But he was filled with confidence just from looking at her that she was going to be just fine. He's a local boy, from Ahwahnee; specializes in emergency veterinary medicine. Must have a handle on it, right? Then he said, "We'll just take her in the back, run some labs, get an IV going and I'll call you in a hour or so. You can probably pick her up tomorrow (Sunday) or Monday." Whoa, back up. Leave her? You want me to leave her? Well, thanks to Jackie, who knew the questions to ask that I'd forgotten and who'd brought some common sense with her and not just emotions, Katie went to the back and I came home.

Apparently she'd ingested something that irritated her upper intestine creating an irritation (like an ulcer in you and me,) which developed a bacterial infection that worked its way down, and went from bad to worse. Saturday night she didn't much care what was going on, but by Sunday morning she was re-hydrated, the antibiotics were kicking butt and she was taking soft food. This morning I drove down and she was doing do-nuts (wheelies) again. She's on a diet that she thinks is the best ever and is in for a rude awakening toward the end of the week when she starts transitioning back to "dog food". She's on a weird combo of meds for at least a week. But she's home. She'll sleep on the bed with me again tonight ... and maybe I'll get some sleep.

I'm not ready for her to go hang with Dad. She has a lot to care for yet down here, mainly me. And she's still a youngster, she's only 9 years old, young for a cocker/pom mix.

To those who sent their thoughts and comments and to those who worked to keep me from unraveling, thank you! And, dear Lord, for not calling that angel back yet, only you know how grateful I am!

To Connie with Joy!

I've been thinking about my friend Connie this week. She passed away just a year ago, from cancer. She had more joy in her heart than anyone I've ever met. She loved life and she loved her Lord. Whatever He had in mind, she accepted with grace, dignity, and a special joy. Her joy was contagious and she apparently had an overabundance because she shared her joy with everyone and like loaves & fishes, it grew and grew.

Having a bad day (or thought you were)? Somehow, Connie knew. More than once I found a card in my mailbox on just the day I needed it most. Sometimes a thank you, sometimes words of encouragement. Or the phone would ring and she'd ask a favor. The favor always did more for me than it took from me. And it wasn't just me; she had this knack with so many of us. She'd let us think we were the ones giving and later we'd realize that we were the ones who were filled with gratitude.

She loved her family. She loved her home. She loved her dog, Rosie. She loved watching the geese that wandered around outside her home. She loved her Starbucks. She loved sitting on her porch watching the plants and the birds and the sky and the clouds. And she loved writing about all these things. When cabin fever would set in she loved car rides, especially around the lake.

Connie, we miss the way your eyes lit up when you smiled and the way you made every day so special. We miss you, we all still love you and we still feel your joy as you smile down on us.