Long Hollow

Oh, Magic Craig's List Genie...I wish I had...

   ...some DVD and CD racks...a wood and iron etagere for the downstairs bathroom...some sturdy but affordable bookshelves so I can dig my Civil War reference books out of the boxes and use them as I write my screenplay.

    POOF! POOF! POOF! Wishes granted!!

   Well, Craig's List doesn't grant wishes quite that fast - there's the phone call you have to make and the driving to pick it up - but it is kind of weird that every time I decide I need something, I can find it within seconds with a few clicks of my mouse - CHEAP! Can it really be a coincidence that someone wants to sell exactly what I'm looking for? Today, it was the bookshelves. Solid pine, seven feet tall, four feet wide, in perfect shape. I'll be able to fit A LOT of books on those shelves.

    Despite the rush I get when I find something, I'm not an addict. I'm just a casual user, compared to Tom. He checks it every day. His scores include my drums, a rolling tool cabinet, my minivan, the Suzuki Samurai, Tommy's Dodge Neon, wheels and tires (we seem to go through a lot of these), a porch swing, a kayak and canoe, a telescope, glass bricks for the shower wall in the downstairs bathroom, accent tile for that bathroom, Bose speakers, a papasan chair, an earth compactor and brick paving stones, large mirrors, a treadmill, an elliptical trainer (FREE!), his Suzuki DR350 motorcycle, a freestanding basketball goal, a couple of beds, and a chainsaw.

     E-bay satisfied his bargain addiction (leather couches, big screen TV, armoire, Daniel's bookshelves and desk) until he discovered Craig's List was faster and cheaper.  How could he resist?

    As bad as he has it, my friend Darla's addiction makes him look like a newbie. Darla buys and sells on Craig's List at the speed of a seasoned broker on Wall Street. Her back yard that looks like a photo shoot set for "Home and Garden"?  All furnishings courtesy of Craig's List - from the umbrellas and wicker furniture to the eclectic painted cabinet and vintage double chaise lounge. As a busy single mom, she also depends on Craig when she needs odd jobs done around the house that she can't do herself. 

   But what am I doing here, just writing about it? I have some bookshelves to fill...

  

And the lion shall lie down with the lamb...

     Well, it's not exactly a lion and a lamb, but pretty close...and what you can't see is there's also a ballsy adolescent squirrel sitting on the window sill eating the seed I put out for Frankie (Frankie's a chicken-guinea. No guts. Afraid of confrontation or too nice, I can't decide which.)

     (Keep in mind when viewing these photos that 1. our house is a "work in progress" and 2. our dogs are country dogs that like to swim in the pond then track mud all over the porch)

     Is Charly the picture of resignation or what? He gave up trying to understand what the heck is going on around here...

Changing hats

     I'm a Band mom today...first football game of the season. I emailed two pages to my teacher last night just under the midnight deadline, then woke a few hours later before dawn to move the laundry around, pay some bills, and be ready to chaperone a bus full of high-schoolers to a sun-kissed stadium where I will sweat in the stands just to watch the half-time performance.

     It will be too hot for their uniforms, so they are required to wear their band T-shirts, black kneelength shorts, black socks and black marching shoes. There will be no photographs. I wouldn't do that to any kid.

Students...Log on

    My "Introduction to Screenwriting" class started this week - my third online class in a row. There are obvious advantages to these "distance" courses...you save on gas and commuting time...you "attend" when you want to...you can wear your pajamas to class (actually, I guess you can do that on campus, too, depending on your pj's.) And if you're an older student, like me, no one knows it. Until you post on the discussion board, at least. Your age influences your choice of words, opinions, and even grammar. It's impossible to blend in for long.

    I remember two years ago, arriving on campus for my first class in my third attempt at a degree. Hurrying to the entrance, my heart started beating a little faster. How was I going to find time for this? Would I be able to keep up? Would I get an 'A'?

    I thought back to my last attempt, how it felt being older than some of my teachers, much less the other students, and that's when it hit me like a jolt of electricity - my last attempt had been fifteen years ago! I was already older than everyone then - man, I was REALLY old this time.

    I clutched my books tighter to my chest, feeling like a spotlight was shining on me, following my every move. I found my class, slipped into an open desk, front and center (like I tell my kids), and glanced around. To my surprise and relief, there were a few other "old" ladies in the class...all sitting near the front, of course. And my teacher was at least as "experienced" as me. Later in the hall, I noticed a lot of other "mature" students. I also ran into some kids I knew from the high school, who seemed happy to see me. A familiar face always helps you feel at home.

   I'm one of those strange people you hear about that likes school. I miss sitting in a classroom, taking notes, walking around a campus watching people. But for me, for now, online is the way to go.

    Now, I have my brain and two blank pages to fill by midnight tonight with coherent details about my story idea "including cinematic images."  I have a really good idea, but putting it into words on a page is always harder than I think it's going to be. And when am I going to stop procrastinating? Wish me luck!

Thinking of a "Bucket List"

     Tom and I finally got around to watching "The Bucket List" Saturday night. Yeah, I know we're a little behind the times, but that's nothing new.

     I thought the movie was a tad contrived, predictable, and corny in places, but the overall theme is a good one to set you thinking about what you would like to do before you "kick the bucket." 

     A season or two ago Ellen DeGeneres promoted "life lists" - more or less the same thing, but with an optimistic spin to it that I like ("life" versus "kick the bucket" - don't you agree?) She inspired me to jot a few things down; I had forgotten about my list until I watched this movie, and had to dig through several folders on my computer to find it.

    I was actually able to scratch a few things off!  What a great feeling because day after day I feel like I'm running as fast as I can without getting anywhere. Seeing a handful crossed out makes me hopeful that I can cross off a few more before I kick the bucket in my lifetime.

     So here's my list...I've added a few things to it; I don't include things like "laugh till I cry", "make a difference in someone's life," or "witness something spectacular" like the list in the movie - those are daily goals for me, not life goals...

     Wish me luck, and good luck on your own list!

1. start back to college
2. get a set of drums  (Happy Anniversary from Tom a few years ago)
3. learn to play the drums
4. have varicose vein surgery (a birthday present to myself)
5. get my Bachelor's degree
6. visit Stonehenge
7. go back to Venice and ride in a gondola
8. visit Ireland, England, and Germany with Tom (where the Shallue's came from, where Tom was born, and where he lived until he was about seven)
9. go to Disneyworld (I'm one of only a handful of adults who have never been!)
10. trace each family line out of America and write their stories
11. finish writing my book Winston and have it published
12. see the Giant Redwood Forest
13. visit New York City (I've been in London, Paris, Rome, Florence, Venice, Innsbruck and Madrid...but not NYC!)
14. help each of our kids get through college (Tommy, Daniel, Kendall)
15. finish our house
16. visit a pyramid
17. go to Hawaii
18. visit Kodiak, Alaska (and the rest of it while we're there) with Tom (he was stationed there in the Coast Guard in the late '70's)
19. ride the Hill Country Flyer  (Happy Birthday from Tom last year)
20. write my screenplays (two ideas I have so far)
21. become an expert on (or at least learn more about) my Nikon camera
22. see my book collection filling bookshelves rather than boxes

By...or Under... the Seashore

     I found the fossil of a seashell, a type of angelwing, on my walk this morning - a whole two-inch angelwing nestled in the caliche in the middle of the road, just waiting for me, reminding me that I'm at an (extinct) seashore.  Back home, I placed it into the wire basket holding other fossils we've found over the years...other angelwings and coquinas, spiraled naticas and moon snails, lots of cockles and clams. I've picked up three in the past month alone. 

    Soon after we moved to Lago Vista, I was exploring the mostly-dry creek bed that divided the hollow behind our renthouse with my kids when I found my first seashell fossil. It was just lying there next to the creek - a huge, whole, spiraled natica.  It could have been the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the way my kids and I reacted. The neighbor kids with us, who had grown up exploring that creekbed, weren't sure why we were so excited.

     That's one of the good things about growing up in the geometric-plotted, green grass and concrete 'burbs: we don't take these things for granted. We still find it wonderful and amazing that there are fossils lying around right here where we live, not just enshrined in a museum or a national park thousands of miles away, or just pictures in a science book.

     I guess I should mention I've always liked rocks.

The Last First Day

    

Seventeen years ago Tommy shouldered his green Big Bird backpack, smiled for the camera by the front door, then took off for his first day of kindergarten. Every "first day" since that morning, I've been snapping pictures (the last few years under verbal assault.) 

Today was no exception. But it was the last 'first day' photo ever: TG officially started her senior year of high school today.  

I won't show the photo here, but it was a really good one! She even smiled a little, but I could tell she wasn't nearly as excited as she was her first day of kindergarten, when she spent days deciding what to wear.

(Final decision: Princess Jasmine skort and vest, seen in photo below with Daniel, starting second grade, and Tommy, big man on campus in fifth. This was my trinity year - room mother to all three rooms...party days were pure sweat and adrenaline!)

 

Senior year is more of an ending than a beginning - one that I think she is looking forward to, but is a little nervous about, at the same time. So many activities and expectations to juggle, decisions to make, applications to fill out. Things that will affect her whole life.

Soon after Tommy's first day of kindergarten, I quit my job to be one of those "stay-at-home" moms that are never at home. I had planned to wait until after the first of the year, but I just couldn't. I envied the women who had volunteered to be room mothers. Working my twelve-hour shifts, I knew I wouldn't be able to be directly involved - not as much as I wanted to, anyway.

So this is a last year for me, as well as for TG.  I will try to savor this year, and remind her to do the same, even as we both look ahead to the future. It's been fun.

Party at the Pond

     I could barely hear myself talking to the dogs last night when I was feeding them - the frogs were croaking fools, celebrating the two inches of rain that fell yesterday. Insects buzzing like soprano chainsaws joined in every once in a while. Who ever said the countryside was quiet never experienced pond-life at night after a good rain, I guess.

   

To Smack 'em or Kiss 'em - a Mother's Dilemna

     It's done - Daniel is back at UT. I dropped him off this afternoon after his allergy doctor check-up, along with some boxes of Capri Sun and root beer, and a couple of black trash bags filled with blankets, his pillow, and things he forgot to take yesterday, like his computer monitor (carried separately, not in a black bag!), when he and Tom first checked in. His roommate Clint helped him pile it all on a cart to push into the dorm. With a quick hug and I love you, he was gone. On my drive home, I turned up the radio, but it still seemed so quiet, like the house seems now - it's a resigned quiet...a sigh.

     Forgetting things...I hope he gets out of that habit. He "forgot" to check his email for two months; I'm not sure why he decided to last night, but he had several from UT about tuition deadlines, which unfortunately he missed because he didn't check his email (should I mention here that he is totally up-to-date on all of Strong Bad's emails?) Consequently, all of his classes were dropped. He had to re-register this morning; fortunately he was able to get most of the classes he signed up for originally. But GEEZ! All that wasted time and stress!

    Tom wanted to kill him. I think that's a pretty natural response. I wanted to throw some things at him myself, when I found out. This morning I had calmed down a little, and actually thought of kissing the top of his head once, when he leaned it on my shoulder - it was an odd sensation, wanting to kiss him and smack him all at the same time.

     Ah, Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. I hope this is the semester it all really clicks, and you accomplish all you're capable of. Anyone out there reading this...please say a prayer for my goofy, funny, smart, sweet, air-head son.

    

Step Aside, Kenny Chesney

    When I tucked the handwritten songs in a box more than thirty years ago, it was mostly for sentimental reasons. (I have boxes and boxes of sentiment - it's a sickness...I can't get rid of anything!) However, a teensy voice inside my head said, "Hmmm...he'll probably be famous one day...I wonder if these will be worth something?"

     So I really wasn't surprised when I read the email from my old friend Nathan that his band, Mission Texas, has a website now, and that they've been playing in the Houston area a lot. Nathan was never far from his guitar back in high school, and he's been in bands before. It's just hard to pursue your dream around shift-work and family, as I well know.

    I'm going to add him to my "I knew you when..." list, and try to see them perform at the Pasadena Rodeo BBQ Cook-off on September 27 outside of Houston.

     I wonder which box I put those songs in...

     (Here's Nathan on his seventeenth birthday circa 1976...I bet he's wishing that he'll still be playing the guitar and singing in a band even when he gets old, like forty-nine or fifty...and look! his wish came true!!)

What's so funny?

     "Ah, here you are. When did you sneak down to the garage?"

     "When you and Daniel were busy laughing at stupid videos on the computer."

     "Huh?"

     "You and Daniel were sitting there at the computer laughing your heads off over something."

     "We haven't been looking at videos...we were looking up his Financial Aid and Tuition bill at UT!"

Daniel can even make me laugh about drowning in debt. I'm going to miss him!

Can you read this?

       Getting older means losing things...memory, eyesight, hair. On a certain level, I knew this. But living it is different than knowing it.

     Now that I'm living it, I don't want to just give in - I'm trying to hang on to it all as long as I can. Taking college classes...yes, I still want to get my degree, but I've read that learning new things is a good way to keep your brain young. Running and lifting weights...they keep me from losing bone density and muscle (and the ability to walk up the eighty-foot sloping stone pathway to my van without passing out.)

    But my eyesight...nothing you can do about losing that once you hit forty, right? I just resigned myself to needing magnifying glasses in every room of the house, and having to scramble in my purse for my readers if I wanted to decipher a menu.

    What I didn't realize until yesterday, thanks to a recent post by Stephanie Klein ("Pencil Pushups"), is that I can fight it! I don't have to give in so easily. According to her eye doctor, sitting in front of a computer for hours and hours can shrink the writing on medicine bottles and care labels, just as effectively as a fortieth birthday. It just so happens I practically doubled my time in front of a computer screen at about the same time I turned forty. Obviously, I didn't pick the right eye doctor -  mine never told me about pencil pushups. I'm just glad I found out now. I'll fit them in to my regimen, maybe in between lunges and curls. 

   Now, if I could just find a way to stop my hair from thinning...

More than just a dream to me

     Summer clouds remind me of Mam-ma's hair - so white and fluffy. She was my mother's mother...my grandmother...my babysitter and more. 

     Yesterday would have been Mam-ma's 103rd birthday. Acute leukemia took her just before she turned eighty-eight.  Her death was the catalyst Tom and I needed to get our family away from the Houston Ship Channel area; within a couple of years, we were living outside of Austin.

    It's hard to believe that much time has passed since her death...perhaps because she was such a big part of my life...perhaps because I think of her so often. I miss her, of course, but I'm at peace with her death; one night, a few weeks after her funeral, I woke to her voice calling me. She was standing in our bedroom, looking radiant. She wore a brightly colored dress, her hair was done just right, and she exuded happiness. I immediately went to her and hugged her. If I close my eyes, I can still feel that last hug, feel her softness within my arms, feel her hugging me back.

    "How are you?" I asked, still confused and marveling at the sight of her - not just that she was in my room, but also how she glowed with happiness and health, so unlike those last days in the hospital.

    I think she told me she "was just fine, don't worry," then she said "Tell your mother hello for me."

    The next day logic insisted it was only a dream; but my heart feels it was more. I think she talked God into letting her come for that visit to grant us peace in her passing, to let us know she really was in a better place.  That's how much she loved us - how could God say no? 

First photo: Mam-ma with Mama and Kendall, December 1991

Second photo: Tommy, Daniel (Look at that face! Something didn't taste good!) and Mam-ma, August 1991

    

Nickels and Dimes

     It has begun...I just wrote a check for $21.65 for Kendall's band photos. That's the basic package. I've already sent in the $100 for the new band "Fair Share" fund where parents help with things school districts used to pay for years ago. (In the past I've donated more than that over the marching season for one thing or another, so I'll probably come out ahead this way, though.) Soccer went up to $200 - ouch! That's just for recreational - how do people afford select soccer, which I've heard can run into the thousands?

     I also need to order her senior portraits...then there will be college application fees...the yearbook...prom...graduation announcements...graduation cap and gown...okay, that's all I want to think about right now.

     I'm late for work...

A Big Sister, At Last!

     One of the great things about marrying Tom was inheriting a pack of younger brothers. When I say pack, I mean PACK: Steve, Joe, Russ, Mike, Robbie, and John. He also has two older brothers, Kenny and Randy!

     I was the youngest of four, myself, and had always wanted a little brother or sister. Anytime my mom went to the hospital, I asked her, "Will you bring home a baby?" I'll admit it...I think one reason I wanted a younger sibling was so that I could be the tormentor rather than just the tormentee, but by the time I married Tom and became a big sister, I had gotten over that, which is good, considering I was outnumbered and most of them were bigger than me. 

     I met most of my new brothers on my first trip to Maryland. Kenny (Nebraska), Steve (South Dakota), and Joe (California) were all in the Air Force. Tom had given me a group photo so I could memorize faces and names beforehand; he quizzed me along the way.

    "Quick - who's number four?" (Steve) 

     "Number seven?" (Mike)

     He'd change it up to try and catch me: "What number's Russ?" (six)

    By the time we hit D.C., I could name them in order. But I was getting really nervous. Would I be able to tell them apart? And what if they didn't like me?

    Well, they did, thank goodness, and it turned out to be easy to tell them apart, once their personalities came into the mix. By the time we left, I truly did feel like they were my brothers.

     They all came for the wedding a few months later (except Joe.) Like a good big sister, I took Russ, Mike and Robbie to the mall to get them out of the house, listening sympathetically when they complained to me about how they were treated like kids by the older guys.  Geez, I was twenty-three, and they weren't that much younger than me - Robbie was eighteen, but Mike was almost twenty, and Russ was practically twenty-one. They weren't kids!

     Russ turned forty-seven last Friday and Mike hits forty-six today. But I still think of them the way they looked that first year, the year I became a big sister.

     Happy birthday month, guys!

On Happiness

      Even if happiness forgets you for a little bit, never completely forget about it. (Jacques Prevert, French poet and screenwriter, 20th century)  

 

      An old boyfriend once told me, "Don't depend on me for your happiness."  Our relationship had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions for me until then (because he wasn't a very good boyfriend, to put it mildy), but I realized he was right. Like Dorothy trying to find her way home from Oz, I had the power to be happy inside of me the whole time. I just didn't know it or use it until then. I've always been grateful to him for opening my eyes to that truth. Unfortunately, I don't think he ever realized the truth of what he taught me himself - I think he was still searching for happiness, mostly in the wrong places, up until the day he died a few years ago. Or maybe he had just given up.

       Soon after we moved into our house, Tom expressed frustration on one of our walks that I didn't seem worried enough about all of the "wolves" waiting to devour us...I can't remember exactly what they were at the time, but I'm sure they all had to do with money - house loans plus construction deadlines equals stress, especially when you're doing it yourself. He was close to killing himself between working his regular job, trying to finish the house, and worrying about it all.

     Even though he couldn't see it, I felt the pressure, too. I was trying to do whatever I could to help with the house, plus take care of everything else so he wouldn't have to worry about anything BUT the house. I just knew there was only so much I could do;  a lot of it was out of my hands, and his, for that matter. Worrying wouldn't help. Besides, I needed to set an example for my kids. I told him "We have a choice every day to be happy or not. I choose to be happy." Each day, I took care of whatever was within my power, then I focused on the good stuff, kept an eye out for the blessings (there were a lot!) and tried not to dwell on the bad. It wasn't always easy, that's for sure, but I tried.

     I like the quote above from Prevert because there are still days when I just can't feel that lightness, no matter how many blessings I count, and even when there aren't any "wolves at the door"...I'm not sure if it's hormones or what, but I've learned to be patient. I know the heaviness will pass as quickly as it came. 

    I think happiness might mean different things to different people, or perhaps one person can find happiness where another can't. So here are a few more quotes on happiness to keep in mind...

 Happiness is not a destination; it is a matter of traveling. (Haim Ginott)

 

When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us. (Helen Keller)

 

Happiness is not having what you want; it is wanting what you have. (Unknown)

 

One of the things I keep learning is that the secret of being happy is doing things for other people.(D. Gregory)

 

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing. (Agatha Christie)

 

The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose. (William Cowper)

 

There are shortcuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them. (Vickie Baum)

 

Some days there won't be a song in your heart. Sing anyway. (Emory Austin)

 

The fullness of joy is to behold God in everything. (Julian of Norwich)

 

While we may not be able to control all that happens to us, we can control what happens inside us. (Benjamin Franklin)

 

Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you. (Maori proverb)

Where did it go?

     I just realized that in less than a week, Daniel will be gone again, swallowed in a sea of burnt orange at the University of Texas. For me, that means no more South Park episodes or Strong Bad emails on the computer; no more classic Calvin and Hobbes cartoons; no more Robert Heinlein short stories. Without Daniel, I don't make time for those indulgences. Without Daniel, I probably wouldn't enjoy them as much, anyway.

    "Hey mom, there's a new Strong Bad email. Want to watch it?"

    "Hey mom, you need to watch the _____episode of South Park. You'll like it."

    "Hey mom, you need to read this."

    So often this summer, I've said, "I'm too busy," just like when they were little. Will I never learn to slow down and enjoy sharing these little times with them? It's amazing he even WANTS to share them with me.

    One thing I have done this summer...took the time to go to the movies with them. Tom doesn't like to go to the movies anymore, and he wouldn't like most of the movies we want to see...the silly ones, anyway.  He'll like Dark Knight, I think. Get Smart, maybe. But Stepbrothers and Tropic Thunder...I can already hear him saying, "That's not funny - it's stupid!" I'm SO glad my kids inherited my sense of humor, so I have someone to laugh at silly things with me. I don't feel so alone!

     Without Daniel, there won't be as much laughter in the house. He can make me laugh with a look, a lift of his eyebrows, a word, a walk. He can make Kendall laugh, which can be really tough, and sometimes it makes her mad, but she still laughs. She can't help it. He can even make Tom laugh when he's mad as hell about Daniel's grades or something.

     So for the next few days, I'm going to take advantage of having him here - I'm going to watch all the South Park episodes he thinks I'll like, catch up on the new Strong Bad emails and Teen Squad cartoons, and stop whatever I'm doing to read anything he suggests. I know from experience with his big brother Tommy, these summer days of having him here underfoot, irritating me, helping me, and making me laugh, are numbered. I'm going to miss them. I'm going to miss him.

Pink Explosions

I had to share these pink flowers..I have no idea what they are, but they were blooming on a huge bush on the side of Oma Gruene's Cottage where we stayed this weekend. I'm going to find out what they are and see if there's any way they would grow in our rocky, caliche-dust soil. I doubt it, but I'll keep my fingers crossed...

  

Down the Not-So-Lazy River

     My stomach is a glowing red - too much sun, too little sunscreen. Tom and I tubed the Comal River in New Braunfels for several hours this past Saturday with our longtime friends Bob and Lisa, their son Justin, his girlfriend Patty, and friend Eric.  

     I've heard people say the Comal isn't as rough as the Guadalupe, but in all the times I've tubed the Guadalupe, I've never flipped, even over Slumber and Huaco Falls. This time I was tossed like a pancake - a wave broadsided me just as I emerged from the Shoot, and there was nothing I could do. The second time around, the wave got Tom (as well as his sunglasses and the hat Bob loaned us.) 

     The rest of the float was pretty uneventful, which was fine, because we had a lot of catching up to do. Somehow, we'd let two years slip by without seeing Bob and Lisa. That summer of 2006 we met at Aunt Tilley's on Lake Travis to see Rotel and the Hot Tomatoes, and also attended Justin's graduation party (from Texas State) in South Austin. That was a memorable party - it was on our 24th wedding anniversary and was probably the best meals I've ever eaten (at least one of Justin's friends is a chef.)

     During those two years Justin has traveled the world, teaching English in several countries. That's where he met Patty, who was also teaching English abroad after graduating from the University of Tampa - definitely kindred spirits. It was fun just listening to them talk about their experiences. Eric and Justin have been friends since sixth grade - he's stationed in San Antonio, so Justin got him to join us. He's getting married in October, so I think spending a few hours with two old married couples was probably educational for him.

     Bob and Tom got to be friends while serving in the Coast Guard together at Ellington Field outside of Houston, and they met Lisa while working at...ah, I can't remember the name of the store, but Tom remembers Lisa eating jalapenos straight out of the jar for lunch. Tom introduced me to them -Lisa very pregnant with Justin- soon after we met. We spent our first New Year's Eve with them (Justin had arrived by then and Lisa's beloved, fun, grandmother Mernie also celebrated with us that year.) In fact, we spent lots of New Year's Eves with them - they always threw great parties.

   This weekend we stayed in Oma Gruene's Bed and Breakfast, within walking distance of everything in Gruene. Friday night we danced to the music - guitar and beautiful vocals- of Mark, set up right in front of the house. He's half of "Mark and Dave Guitars" (I think that was the name). We hoped he'd come back the next night, but a storm hit. We got soaked running to the restaurant just behind the bed and breakfast, but the food was so good, it was worth it.

    We all agreed we need to do this again another weekend, but in the meantime, Tom and I promised to come to Houston more often. Life's too short to let that much time go by again without spending time with them...

    Here are moments together from the past...distant (New Year's Eve 1981) and recent (this past weekend - the jump is Justin and Patty's signature pose, so they got us to try it, too...)

 

 

Yadira and the Three Bears

...So we're driving through Yellowstone National Park and come to this traffic jam. Turns out there's a mama black bear and her cub near the road. It's crowded and Tom's in a little bit of a hurry to get through the park, so we keep going, but his brother John stops.

     "I climb into the back of my truck to get a better view of the bears on the hill across the street," he tells us later, "and this man asks if he can get up there with me, and I say sure, and we're talking about the crazy people getting so close to the bears. Then I hear someone ask 'Where are the bears?' and a lady answers 'Over by that tree, right in front of the girl in the bright green shirt with the camera,' and that's when I realize that GIRL is my WIFE!  And all Yadira said about it, with a big smile on her face, was, 'She called me a girl?'" (This happened just a few weeks before her 30th birthday...)

     Yadira graciously shared the photos she courageously captured...I think she might have a future with National Geographic...

  

She also got some great shots of a grizzly - maybe the one we saw a little farther down the road (this time we stopped, too)...or a different one they saw during the two or three more days they stayed...the bears were out this year!

 

She also got this great shot of buffalo...

And I have to include these - the Photography Wars (me, Daniel, and Yadira)...me and worn-out goddaughter Nicole...Yadira, John and their kids...Tom and John (on tiptoes)...

 

 

 

By the light of the moon...

Last night, our caliche road and metal roof glowed in the moonlight. I could see the trees along the creek dancing, and the wind was the song they danced to. Ah, summer nights.

Just the two of us...

    Tom and I spooned on the couch watching television, relaxed, content. I was pregnant with Tommy. "When we have the baby, will we still cuddle like this?"

     I don't remember Tom's answer, but I do know that having children made any kind of relaxing difficult for years, much less any cuddling...unless having one to three kids, and sometimes a Siamese cat, squirming between you counts as cuddling. And it's not just children that can come between you, demanding lots of time and attention, but also jobs, pets, housework, or in our case, housebuilding. 

     But the babies are almost grown now, and we're getting very good at ignoring things that "need to be done," making it possible for us to take off all by ourselves every once in a while like we did yesterday morning, exploring the countryside in the Suzuki Samurai (after stopping at Sonic for drinks.)

      The road we drove down yesterday isn't far from us - I've passed it millions of times, wondering where it would take me but never turning to find out. Now instead of wondering, I'll know and remember I was with Tom on our anniversary when I first discovered the beautiful Texas landscape it winds through. It follows a creek, criss-crossing back and forth on low, concrete bridges through ranchland, and in places runs under towering cliffs, some over sixty feet tall. The "creek" is mostly just a limestone bed right now, dotted with a few pools of water where herons have an easy time snacking on captive fish. But clumps of debris caught halfway up nearby oaks warns that at times it is a torrent.

     We passed a field of Black-Eyed Susans, budding cactuses, weathered ranchhouses with sheet metal roofs, and gated manors hidden behind stone walls. Ancient oaks somehow still outnumbered junipers.

     Real life still interfered for part of the day - shuttling Kendall to band practice, spending a few hours at work, Tom taking care of his chores around the house - but we managed a few minutes snuggling in the hammock, took off by ourselves again in the afternoon and had dinner at the Pier (a local lakeside restaurant), making it home in time to watch the sunset from our back deck.

     Just the two of us, for a little while at least. 

  

 

 

It started with a dance...

     The first thing I noticed when I walked into the kitchen late Sunday night, returning from Pasadena, exhausted, was the filter holder to my coffee pot sitting on a towel on the counter. In that second I realized two things: I had forgotten to empty and clean the coffee pot before I left, and Tom had done it for me. "I love you," it said, as clearly as if he had said it out loud. For one thing, Tom doesn't drink coffee. It was totally a gesture for me. He knows I hate to leave the old grounds in there. He took the time to check it and do it for me. He thought about me. 

     Twenty-six years ago this morning, I started calming myself down. By the time I walked down the aisle to join my life with his that evening, I was almost comatose. I still could hardly believe this was true - I was really getting married! Less than a year before, I had resigned myself to being single forever. Then my knight in shining armor rode in, or that is, stepped up, and asked me to dance.

     How did he see past the dark clouds I had gathered about myself that night? What did he see in me? What drew him to me, made him ask me to dance?  I'm still not sure, but I'm so glad he saw something - still sees something - and I'm glad, so glad, I said "yes."

     Happy 26th Anniversary to us...

 

Traveling backwards

        

Turning onto Washington, driving toward my parents' house, is like turning pages in an old photo album - everything is much greener and the trees are much taller, but that's Chris Santiago's house on the corner...there's Karen LaRue's house - she had a big playhouse in her backyard...the Astons' house, the Andersons', the Farr's first house, Uncle Joe's...that used to be the vacant lot where we played kickball and freeze tag and where we cut through to the horse pasture.

Across the street, on the corner of Sherbrooke there's the Pleasance house, then the Patterson-Underwood-Farr house, then ours, right in the middle. Farther down is the Costs', then the Loyds'. 

Kim and Kathy Bailey lived right across the street from us - my hands slipped climbing down from their huge ash tree once, and I fell flat on my back, knocking the breath out of me. Donnie carried me home and laid me on the couch. (I survived.)

I think my parents are the only ones left on the street from those days, though. After moving dozens of times in a just a handful of years, my mother swore when she moved into that house over fifty years ago, she'd never move again. We believe her now.

TG, Daniel, and I made a quick one-night-trip to Pasadena this past Saturday because we realized Daniel hadn't seen his grandparents since Christmas, and he would be heading back to college soon. Also... Sunday was my sister Brenda's birthday.

I try to go back as often as I can now to see my parents, Brenda, my brother Donnie, their families, and if there's time, my high school friends. When we were in the middle of building the house, we were in such a time crunch that we couldn't get away for years. I'm trying to make up for it now. 

I realize too well how time can get away from you.

We spend the time talking, drinking coffee, watching television, and talking some more. We do a lot of "remember when"-ing.

Donnie and his daughter, Christin, came by Saturday night for dinner. I made him promise to ride his Harley - his new passion - the next day so I could get his picture. We were all meeting at Chili's to celebrate Brenda's birthday after church (and after Brenda and her husband Ralph returned from her business convention in Denver.)

The past two years have probably been the hardest in my brother's life, but everytime I see him he seems more and more his old self - the big, contagious smile of our childhood isn't ever far away, hiding just under the surface of the stern face he puts on most of the time. And he's finally laughing again.

Here's my Harley-riding big brother, trying to look tough and mean...

 

 

 

 

After lunch we all headed back to Mama and Daddy's for cake, ice cream, off-key singing, presents...the usual.

 

A bonus to the day was a vintage car show in the neighbor's yard.

He rebuilt the red one himself - I don't know who the others belonged to, but we met the man, Lupe, who did all the painting. I've always wanted an old truck like this one, but my favorite paint job was the turquoise one - I loved the lightning flashing all over it.

 

Welcome visitors

      Either the rain washed Frankie up, or he brought it, but we've got both right now...two answered prayers in one morning!

     First I heard the rain. It has to rain hard to be heard in our house, despite what they say about metal roofs. Then I spotted Frankie in the window! I hurried out and sprinkled bird seed on the ledge. He was chattering away in between mouthfuls, full of news about something.

     I was just glad to see him. It had been so long, I feared the worst, even though I wouldn't let the thought surface very long.

     I have to remember he's a gypsy guinea, and gypsies don't stay in one spot too long, just like the rain these days. They may both be just a memory again soon, but I'll enjoy them while they're here...

SEE-UH-STUH

     

 

 

 

 

One of the first and best gifts my parents ever gave me was my big sister, or "See-uh-stuh" as I called her for the first few years - I don't remember when I switched to Brenda.

Sometimes I feel like I've let my daughter down by not providing her with a sister, even though she's got two great brothers. I just hate that she'll never know the special love that exists between sisters.

Brenda is eight years older than me, but we were always very close, even when eight years was a big age difference. We're still close - she meets me and my Lago friends in Port Aransas every year - but now it feels like we're the same age.

I know I was lucky...

She let me tag along with her and her friends, and sometimes even her boyfriends... She took me and my friends to the Strawberry Park swimming pool, Astroworld, and sometimes just riding around... When I was really little, she would take me to the pony rides in old Pasadena... We'd take the beagles for walks in Pasadena Memorial Park...  She would take me to the zoo and act as a chaperone on my class field trips to the Houston museums... She'd let me hang out all day with her at the Mason Park swimming pool the summers she was a lifeguard... She came along on my Girl Scout camping trips as the lifeguard so we could swim... She took me to the emergency room when I was eight or nine and sprained my wrist (first she laughed, though, at finding me sitting in the toilet - someone had left the seat up and my skinny butt slipped right through - I sprained my wrist trying to catch myself, but I told everyone at school I slipped in the bathtub... do you blame me?)

What's that? You want me to share more memories? Well, let's see...

• I was thirteen and we visited Grandmother and Granddad at Boysville. We spent the day in San Antonio, eating Mexican food on the River Walk, cheesecake in the Hemisphere Needle, and visiting La Villita. I bought a copper bracelet...
• sitting at the kitchen table with Brenda and Mama, all of us reading, or talking, or giggling...
• San Antonio again with Brenda and Daddy at the State Bowling Tournament, drinking my first margarita at the bowling alley (it's okay, I was old enough), touring the missions...
• camping with her and her husband, Boyce, many, many times...
• visiting Grandmother together in Killeen and Belton, hitting the antique shops at Alum Creek on our way...
• calling her when I was reading the last chapter of Amityville Horror, too scared to finish it alone in my apartment; she let me spend the night with her and even slept with me (Boyce only grumbled about that a little bit)...
• reciting "Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Field in unison just to drive everyone crazy, but ending up with tears in our eyes...
• last year going out of her way to pick me up before heading to Port Aransas, getting lost and ending up on a military base, and meeting some "interesting" characters in the liquor store in Corpus Christi... 

Just because we were close doesn't mean we always got along, especially when we shared a bedroom. And one day when I was about three and she was eleven, she had to babysit me. She turned off all the lights and closed the curtains so that the house was gloomy and dark. Somehow she got me so frightened that I made her safety-pin my shirt to hers.

The thing is, she did it - she safety-pinned us together. That is a wonderful big sister.

I was the baby. Spoiled, I'll admit it. I was a brat. (Proof? I hit one of Brenda's friends with a baton when I was three because she wouldn't let me play Monopoly. Don't worry, though. I've learned to play nice and use my words, not my baton... except as a last resort, of course. )

So I don't really hold it against my siblings for the occasional mean things they did; most of the time they were very kind, doting, and entertaining.

I'm not sure which category Brenda's "Spaz Attacks" fall into - mean or doting. Certainly entertaining, though. My brother Donnie and I loved/feared the "Spaz Attacks." Here's how it worked: We would chant ("Spaz Attack! Spaz Attack!") then run for our lives, because Brenda appeared from the hallway, transformed into a kind of hunchbacked monster, arms raised zombie-like, one foot dragging behind her, head cocked to the side.

Donnie and I would scream and climb onto the couch, pushing and shoving each other, with me usually getting pushed down. By then I'd be in tears. But I'd beg her to do it again in a few days.

(Donnie was five years older than me and thinking back on it now, he was probably working in cahoots with Brenda to scare me, but it worked and I loved it.)

Spaz Attacks aside, Brenda has always been a role model for me, and that continues even now; despite being diagnosed with Parkinson's disease, her smile and laugh are still quick and contagious. She faces the problems and challenges, doesn't let them get her down or stop her from doing what she wants to do.

I've lived long enough, seen enough other sisters, to know that I was blessed with an extraordinary big sister. Thank you, Brenda...thank you, Mama and Daddy...and,of course, thank you, God.

And...HAPPY BIRTHDAY (yesterday), SEE-UH-STUH!!! I'm glad I got to spend it with you.

All I can say is...

"Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language." (Henry James, American writer, 19th century)

It's obvious Henry didn't spend his Augusts in Texas...

Morning calm

     I hear the rhythmic crunching of my footsteps on the caliche road, the soft padding of Charly and Max beside me, their panting and my breathing, the wind whispering in my ear.

    I'm walking later than normal this morning - with the temperature hitting the 90's early in the day (before peaking in the 100's), I've been trying to go while it's still relatively cool. But it's not too bad, yet. There's not a cloud in the sky, but there's a pretty good breeze, and still plenty of shade. I hear the backhoes already at work up on the hill near the curve.

    Yesterday I went early. It was a soft morning - soft white clouds sponged onto the blue canvas above me - soft sunshine from the east taking turns with the shade of the hill across my path - a soft wind, soft warmth. Birdcalls and insect hums sounded muted. Lazy.

    Charly and I started these walks years ago. On mornings I was late - either I forgot or had gotten too busy - he would peek in through the French doors, tail wagging, eyes full of optimism and hope. How could I resist? He was the perfect exercise buddy. Max joined right in to our routine.

     Now I look forward to our walks as much as they do, although I still call it "walking the dogs" as if it was a chore. It's a time for rejuvenation, clearing my mind, sorting my thoughts, and preparing for the day, more than exercise.

    My thoughts run free, but behind them, in the background of my mind, I'm reciting a Rosary, counting off the decades with my fingers. It's a chance for reflective prayer - to ask for God's help for myself, my friends, my family, and to give thanks. I have many things to be grateful for, not the least being that I am physically able to walk; I still have use of my legs and my lungs. I think of my brother Buster, a quadriplegic the last years of his life. For a little while, I'm taken away from myself, humbled. 

    One morning a sky full of storm clouds mirrored my mood. But while I watched, a brisk wind swept them from the sky in a gray line, revealing the blue sky, bright with sunshine, waiting just behind. At that moment, I felt the clouds within me lose their grip, swept away with the storm. Even now, on days when I'm once again filled with storm clouds, I remember that morning, remember that the sunshine is waiting and the storms will pass.

    I walk to still myself - to have a few moments of peace.  To slow down before the race of the day begins in earnest. Watching the dogs, seeing their pure delight, I open my eyes to the beauty around me. A falcon lives nearby, some mornings screeching and flying from one telephone pole to the next in annoyance at our presence. On wet mornings, spider webs glisten, stretched across the grasses bordering the road. In the spring, there are flowers, and in the winter, frost. Always beauty.

    My walk ends - back to seeing how many things I can scratch off of my "to-do" lists cluttering the kitchen counter. But at least for a little while today, I was still. 

   

         

Famous people on walking...

Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk.  ~Raymond Inmon

Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.  ~Henry David Thoreau

Thoughts come clearly while one walks.  ~Thomas Mann

Above all, do not lose your desire to walk.  Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness.  I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.  ~Soren Kierkegaard


Walks.  The body advances, while the mind flutters around it like a bird.  ~Jules Renard

Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas.  ~J.K. Rowling, "The Egg and The Eye," Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 2000, spoken by the character Mad-Eye Moody

The best remedy for a short temper is a long walk.  ~Jacqueline Schiff

An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.  ~Henry David Thoreau


A dog is one of the remaining reasons why some people can be persuaded to go for a walk.  ~O.A. Battista

Walking is good for solving problems - it's like the feet are little psychiatrists.  ~Pepper Giardino

If I could not walk far and fast, I think I should just explode and perish.  ~Charles Dickens

What really helps motivate me to walk are my dogs, who are my best pals.  They keep you honest about walking because when it's time to go, you can't disappoint those little faces.  ~Wendie Malick


Walking gets the feet moving, the blood moving, the mind moving.  And movement is life.  ~Carrie Latet

The true charm of pedestrianism does not lie in the walking, or in the scenery, but in the talking.  The walking is good to time the movement of the tongue by, and to keep the blood and the brain stirred up and active; the scenery and the woodsy smells are good to bear in upon a man an unconscious and unobtrusive charm and solace to eye and soul and sense; but the supreme pleasure comes from the talk.  ~Mark Twain

The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand.  ~Frederick L. Knowles

‘I always say the world’s a better place because of the people who go for long walks.’
(G. Riley)

(This is my favorite...)

My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty.  She's ninety-three today and we don't know where the hell she is.  ~Ellen DeGeneres

I knew you when...

     You think you know someone, and then SNAP! they reveal another side to themselves you never even suspected. I'm talking about creativity..talents...passions. With some friends, I have always known about their creative interests, but there are more and more who have waited until these middle-aged years to reveal and pursue their passion.       

    Lately it's these talented, musical middle-aged men that keep popping up. I discovered just the other day that Byron Tully, a friend from high school who is a screenwriter in Los Angeles (the first surprise, but I got over that years ago...,) is also a songwriter. Then there's Mike Young, another friend from high school, who has been playing his guitar for as long as I can remember. What I didn't know until last year is that he has been writing, playing, and recording his own songs. He has several CDs now - everything and anything you hear on the CD is him. There's also a friend here in Lago Vista/Jonestown that we met years ago through Boy Scouts - Jim Linton. He made the Cub Scout campouts more fun, playing Eagles songs on his guitar around the campfire. He formed a band with another friend, Eric Mancilla - "Linton-Mancilla". They've performed original music all around the Austin area, and have also recorded a couple of CDs.

    So I decided to start a list (you never know when more will pop up) of these music men friends - and also my assemblage artist friend, Annie - on the sidebar of my blog with links to their websites. I'm hoping they get really famous, so I can say "I knew you when..."

    

Missing Frankie

     I haven't seen Frankie in a week. He had gotten into the eight to five, Monday through Friday, routine - but last Friday he never showed, and all this week my window ledges have looked so empty without his little face peering in at me. He has the cutest eyes. Daniel heard him squawking from the neighbor's yard the other day, so I'm guessing he's okay.

     Did we do something wrong? He seemed happy, seemed to enjoy our conversations and the birdseed I sprinkled on the ledge each morning when he showed up. And whenever he asked, I filled the pockmarks of the rock ledge in front of the house with water for him to drink.

     Maybe the commute each morning and night got to be too much for him in this heat. I can only hope that's all it is, and that he'll come visit again once the temperature drops back down into the 90s. I guess that's understandable.

     But I miss him, miss his company, miss knowing he's napping on the dining room ledge while the baby squirrels steal his leftover seed, miss him running up the walk after me, chattering all the way.

I'm glad I didn't take his visits for granted. If he doesn't come back, at least I have good memories of the time we had together. But I sure will miss him.

When I grow up...

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."

     - Joseph Campbell, American writer and professor, 20th century

"The big secret in life is that there is no big secret. Whatever your goal, you can get there if you're willing to work."

     -Oprah Winfrey, American actor and TV host, present day

     Hmmm...so which one is right? These tidbits of wisdom both ring true, but seem to contradict each other.

     I love the way quotes and pithy sayings, whether found in a book, a blog, or a fortune cookie, make me stop what I'm doing to swirl the words around in my head, trying to figure out exactly what is meant, whether I agree with it, and if I can apply the lessons to my life or to my kids' lives (they LOVE when I do that!)

     I especially notice the ones about life goals, dreams, or careers right now, not just because I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do "when I grow up", but because my kids are trying to make decisions that will affect the rest of their lives: "What college should I attend? What major should I choose? What do I want to be??"  So these two quotes caught my eye.

    I know who Oprah is, and obviously this philosophy worked for her. She's rich and successful because she sets goals and doesn't let anything get in her way of achieving them.

     I didn't know Joseph Cambell, so I googled him (isn't the internet great?) I wanted to know what happened in his life that led him to his observation. I think it was the Great Depression - he was in his late twenties, probably with a good start on achieving his goals. I think he had to learn to remain flexible, ready for surprises.

    But Oprah must have jumped on a few opportunities that even she couldn't see coming or have planned. And Joseph set goals, worked hard, and achieved them - he finished school, wrote books, taught classes.   

    So here's my take on their advice that I will pass on to my kids. It's not as neat and tidy as the other quotes, but I think I've packed it all in there ...

     "You can reach your goals if you're willing to work, but remain flexible and open to to opportunities. Sometimes a lost dream leads to a better one. Don't let the inevitable bends in the road discourage you, but think of them as new challenges and adventures, new ways to succeed."

   

Wedding, West Texas Style (Cousins)

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You're the one I think of when Brad Paisley sings 'She's Everything,'"  the new groom sang to his bride, strumming his guitar, watching tears fill her eyes, oblivous to the rest of us crowding around to listen. 

"We've come a long way since junior high...you were my first kiss..."

I know the song didn't go exactly like that, but it's all I remember of the words. I just remember thinking, Ah, young love...How sweet!

We were in Abilene for my cousin's daughter's wedding, which was in the same small Catholic church her grandmother and grandfather were married in years ago. It was the shortest wedding I've ever attended - about twenty minutes tops - but still beautiful.

The serenade came later, at the reception in a nearby hotel. 

"Now, how are we related? Second cousins or something?" Even after all the years of geneology I've done, this was tough to explain to our kids.

I still get confused at the technical terminology: I just call Sherlyn and her sisters, Muttsy and Mandy, my cousins, although I'm actually first cousins with their mother Carolyn.

So...does that make Sherlyn and me second cousins? Or would we be first-cousins-once-removed? And what are our kids to each other?

Ah, it doesn't matter. We're cousins. Good enough.

Sherlyn's dad was in the Air Force, and they lived everywhere when she was growing up...from Turkey to Indiana to Texas. We constantly wrote letters to each other.

Finally, they settled for good in Merkel, a little Texas town near Abilene. At nineteen, I took a solo road trip out there from Pasadena (Texas, not California.)

I drove up the main street right at sunset. The shops were all closed and there wasn't a person in sight: it looked like a ghost town. But I found out, especially that night at the Queen-A-Hearts Club, that looks are deceiving.

Even though I hadn't seen Sherlyn, her sisters, and parents in years, it felt like no time had passed, and that's the way it still feels when I see her. Emails and phone calls have replaced the letters, but somehow, despite the physical distance, Sherlyn and I have stayed close all of our lives.

Sherlyn is a tumbleweed of energy. I think she knows everyone within a hundred square miles of Merkel and Abilene - she is the networking queen and worked all her connections for the wedding and reception.

But don't cross her or she'll come out swinging and cussing, her sisters (or at least Mandy) right behind her. In her words, she doesn't put up with "stupid."

 

 

 

Muttsy, me, and Sherlyn, 1968-ish 

 

Me and Sherlyn, forty years later

"Cousins are those childhood playmates who grow up to be forever friends."
~Anonymous 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Joy outweighs Heartbreak

My mother vowed several years ago that she would never own another pet. "They just break your heart when they die and I can't take it anymore."

I agree with her. It's something I can't help thinking about each time we get a new pet, but so far the promise of joy and pure love a pet gives helps me ignore the heartbreak I know will come.

 My dear friend Darla lost her sweet yellow lab Abby yesterday. She knew the day was imminent - Abby had been declining for months - but knowing doesn't protect your heart.

I first experienced that heartbreak in high school when I came home from school and Sheila, my eight-year-old beagle, had died. I had taken her to the vet the day before and he told me she was fine.

I never went back to him, that's for sure. When I heard she was gone, I jumped back in my car and just drove and drove, crying the whole time. I had lost other pets before, but Sheila had been mine, so she was my responsibility and my heartbreak.

A couple of years later, my dad and I had to make the decision to put our Siamese cat, Char, to sleep. She had feline leukemia - the vaccination wasn't yet available.

Mama was at work. We didn't consult her first, and I think it took great effort for her to forgive us for not giving her a few last moments with her, a chance to say goodbye.

Char had become her cat - well, it went beyond pet and owner for those two. When my sister first brought Char home, she had to promise to find another home for her soon: Mama didn't like cats. But Char melted her heart.

I can still picture Char sitting on the kitchen table, nuzzling nose to nose with Mama, while Mama croons "Char and I don't like cats, do we?"

Tom and I lost three pets within a few months of each other soon after moving to Lago Vista.

First, my Siamese cat, Char, died in my arms (she was named after the first one because she was so wild and independent.) She was seventeen and suffering from kidney failure. She was my first baby, only begrudgingly sharing me with Tom, the kids and the dogs, Jake, and Maggie.

A few months later, Tom found the body of fourteen-year-old Jake, a coal black lab mix, in the back yard. He had died in his favorite spot, gazing out into the woods beyond the fence.

We had just adopted two brother puppies, Charly and Chewy, and they kept Maggie company until her death just a few months later. Hers was the hardest for me even though she was an old lady of thirteen, because it was an accident, and I feel I could have, should have, saved her, if I had only checked on her earlier. Somehow her hind legs had slipped off the back deck, under the chicken wire fencing. Her hips were weak, and she couldn't pull herself up. And that's how I found her, just hanging there. In that moment, I understood what it meant to wail in anguish, all of the frustration, sorrow, and anger swelling inside your heart until it gushes out.

Soon after we moved into the new house, I felt that anguish again. Chewy and Charly got into a fight, christening the back deck with their blood and my tears. Tom wasn't home, but a neighbor heard my screams. With his help, we managed to separate them. Chewy had to be put to sleep. I held him, gazing into his glazed eyes, telling him I loved him, as the vet administered the shot.

We were nervous when the German Shepherd puppy wandered up to our property the next year, not sure how Charly would react to him. But Charly adopted him and now, even though Max is twice Charly's size, Charly still treats him like his baby. And Max lets him.

Now Charly is showing signs of his age - slow to get up, stiff when he does. We know he has congestive heart failure, but the other day he took off like a rocket, running with Max. I wouldn't have been surprised if his heart gave out in midstride, but it didn't. I'm thinking that would be the best for him - to be gone in a second in the middle of a run with Max, out on our dirt road, chasing a rabbit.

To everyone who has felt the heartbreak of losing a pet, here's a poem that our vet sent us after Jake's death. It has helped me over the years, with every new heartbreak, so I want to share it...

...Grieve not,

nor speak of me with tears,

But laugh and talk of me

as if I were beside you...

I loved you so -

'twas Heaven here with you.

(by Isla Paschal Richardson)

Jackpot

     It's true. All it takes is the right phone call at the right time.

     Headed to the mall with Kendall, I called my friend Kim to see if she wanted to meet us for lunch - since she moved from Lago, I rarely get to see her. I'm still in withdrawal from our weekly card games when our little group would gather at her house to catch-up, congratulate, and commiserate. And, oh yeah, play cards. Rummy 500.

    "Hey, I'm glad you called. I'm cleaning out my closets. You need to come over." Kendall's eyes lit up when I told her. Kim always looks great - no telling what we'd get.

     My wardrobe already included many "new-to-me" things she could no longer fit into or was just tired of wearing. She had graciously lost weight as I did; what a great friend! I didn't have to go bankrupt to replace the clothes I had given away.

    Ah, but this day really was like Christmas in July. Kendall and I watched as Kim weeded out her closet and drawers, and a mountain of discards grew on the bed. And we laughed - she had us holding our sides at stories that went with some of the clothes. By the time she was through, we had a huge bag full of clothes, plus some hiking boots and coats. The "Pièce de résistance" was the dress she loaned me last fall for my thirtieth high school reunion. I LOVE that dress - ggrrroowwl.

     I owe Kim big-time. Aren't friends wonderful?

Sunlight, ice crystals, rainbow magic in the sky

At sunset last night...reported on the news that it had something to do with ice crystals and sunlight...but whatever caused it, the colors were gorgeous and so unusual - I've never seen a rainbow in the clouds like this. I'm glad I looked up at the right moment...

A heart, to have and hold

     A husband lies in an Austin hospital at this very moment, awaiting a heart biopsy at 9am. It's a very delicate procedure, full of risks, but necessary because it turns out he has lots and lots of heart problems. I don't know him, except from what I've read in his wife's blog (Stephanie Klein.) From what she's written, I do know he's a caring husband and father, and he's only forty-one - way too young to be facing what he's facing.

     About six years ago - it seems like it's been longer than that - Tom was sure something was wrong with his heart. Initial tests didn't reveal anything, but thank goodness, he was persistant: it turned out he had an arterial blockage. The doctor prompty inserted a stent, and so far, so good, knock on wood, see the cardiologist twice a year, eat right and pray every day, he hasn't had any more problems. Yet. His family history, as far as heart health goes, isn't very good. It scares me, the thought of losing him.

     I don't personally know Stephanie and Phil, but my heart goes out to them. I've already said some prayers for them, and will step it up in a few minutes, at 9am. If you're reading this, please keep them in your prayers. They've already had more than their share of tough times in their short married life.

    And while you're praying, please send up a few for the child of a friend of mine who continues to have problems with alcohol and drugs. That's the tricky thing about being a parent - you only have so much control over the choices your kids make, but you never stop being their parent, your heart never ceases being vulnerable to breakage, no matter how old they are.