Long Hollow

With Angels Nearby

It's a scary feeling...your kids going out the door on their own. It doesn't help knowing parents have been doing it since time began. You know...you KNOW...things can happen to your kids. You know it just takes a second...a blink of an eye...a tire on a wet road...

But you also know they can't grow up if you don't let them go when it's time. So you pray.

It's a scary feeling when you get that phone call..."Mom, I just had an accident." Your heart jumps, but right away you give thanks that you hear their voice...that it's them making the call - not someone else. If someone else makes the call...that's when you really start praying.

And when they get behind the wheel of a car for the first time...well, when my oldest got behind the wheel of a car for the first time...my prayers went up a few notches. It helps that I believe in angels. I believe there are more angels than we can imagine...enough that I don't feel guilty at all asking God for a squadron to escort my kids, especially if they are driving somewhere. I envision those angels surrounding the vehicle, prepared to cushion and protect it and my babies if necessary.

I believe they were there on a rainy day years ago when Tommy's car didn't make a curve, flew off the road into the trees, missed every one and landed on a pile of mulch, unharmed except for the car's flat tire. I believe they were there a year or so later when he was almost T-boned coming out of a parking lot by a speeding car. Tommy saw it just in time and accelerated; the car hit just behind the driver's seat. Again, no injuries, but the car was totaled.

I believe they were there a few years ago when a truck plowed head-on into Daniel's little Mazda. A friend had to deliver the news - I had left the house without my cell phone - but she was able to tell me Daniel was okay. Still, pulling up to that intersection...seeing the ambulance, the crunched Mazda, the smashed truck...that was tough. Daniel was sitting in the back of the ambulance, getting checked out. No injuries except a scratch on the nose from the airbag. Not even any burns.

And I believe they were there this morning when TG turned left on the wet road, the tires lost traction, the Suzuki Samurai spun, hit the curb and flipped, landing on the driver's side. No other vehicle hit her. Several pulled off to check on her; one man helped her out.

"Mom, I just had an accident..." She must have made the call while lying there on her side.

I was so grateful to hear her voice...so grateful for those angels.

At the Kitchen Table

My parents are sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, just as they did so many mornings of my childhood. They're discussing the news with Tom, who is keeping one eye on a brisket smoking on the grill just outside the backdoor. Each time he heads in or out to check on it, I get a whiff and my stomach growls, but it won't be ready for hours.

Good thing we'll be spending a few of those hours away from the house - my brother Donnie convinced me to go see "Avatar" in 3-D. He even tried to pay for us to go see it. Since he's the one who recommended I read Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy and insisted I see "Star Wars" thirty years ago, I'm going to listen to him.

When we come to visit my parents, Tom and I sleep in Mam-ma's room. My mother's mother moved in with us when I was two and stayed. They converted the garage into a bedroom for her. For years I coveted her bedroom - it was bigger than mine and I could put my bed here...my dresser there...throw a rug down and scatter some beanbag chairs around...

Now I'm glad I didn't get my way. Mam-ma died before we moved to the hill country, but Mama left it the way it was, so when I wake on our visits here, I'm surrounded by Mam-ma. I'm lying in her four-poster bed. My cell phone is within arm's reach on the matching dresser. Her cedar chest sits under the window - every once in a while when I was growing up, I could persuade her to open it up and show me the saved bits of her life...photos, baby clothes, newspaper clippings.

I wish we lived close enough to Mama and Daddy to see them everyday, but I admit there's something special about having an excuse to stay overnight in my childhood home. If we still lived mere minutes away, we could come over more often, but we'd hover around the table for a few hours and then leave. As a "visitor" I get to wake up in Mam-ma's room...once again experience the morning sun coming through the kitchen windows...drink coffee and read the paper with my parents...watch them feed peanuts to the squirrels in their backyard...

When the kids were younger, we'd come for days in the summer. They are familiar with this house and neighborhood...and my parents...in a way they wouldn't be if we lived closer.

Nevertheless, a weekend here or there is just not enough. This one will be gone before I know it, so I'm going to go refill my coffee and take advantage of this chance to make more memories, even as I'm surrounded by so many others. I'm heading back to the kitchen table.

The Season Continues...

"Over the next day hug your spouse, kiss your child, call your relatives, watch the sunset, watch the sunrise, thank your God and relish your life." - David Rohde, American reporter

Every so often, I need a day at home with no expectations...a day where I can sleep late...ignore to-do lists...bounce along from one thing to the next. Today was almost one of those day...I still had a little laundry to move around and dishes to wash...but it was as close as I've come in a very long time. We slept until we woke up, the sun already shining mid-morning bright into the bedroom. Max was forgiving about the late breakfast - he really didn't even seem that hungry, and took his time about eating. And I didn't mind...it gave me more time to just relax on the porch swing, admiring the clear blue sky and the sunlight streaking through the smoke drifting down from the chimney into the trees.

There was no cooking today whatsoever. The refrigerator is crammed with leftovers and everyone was on their own about meals and eating. Myself...I tried to cut back. I even managed three miles on the treadmill and it made me feel a lot better about the cyclops cookies I enjoyed with my morning coffee. And the peppermint bark. And the pumpkin pie.

Tom and I took the critters for a walk after lunch. Watching Max with Josie made us feel a little guilty about not getting him a puppy - it's been years since he's had someone to play with like this. But then Josie took off after Frankie (just for fun, but Frankie didn't know that - he was freaking out!)...

I'll stick with my original plan of seeing what wanders up next.

Tommy's longtime friend Graham stopped by soon after lunch. They spent a few hours watching episodes of "Arrested Development" and then we played ping-pong until it was impossible to see the ball and our hands were frozen on the paddles.

Now more of their friends have arrived...there are four Eagle Scouts in one kitchen. Does that happen very often?

I treasure my long-time friendships and it makes me glad to see my kids keeping their connections strong as well, despite addresses changing from our small town to Chicago, New York City and other dots on the world map.

Tomorrow we'll continue to celebrate this Christmas season, carrying it to my childhood home for a few days. I'm grateful I have the opportunity. It wouldn't seem like Christmas, otherwise.

Max's favorite present...a few days with Josie...

Tommy and Graham playing ping-pong, with Max and Frankie the referee close by...

On Christmas Day

Christmas is different when your kids get older...instead of staying up late wrapping presents on Christmas Eve, you tell them goodnight and hope you wake up early enough to make sure Santa has done his job before they wake up. Even after they're older, you still want to play the game.

We shared Mass with a church-full of people last night - many I didn't recognize. Were they all visiting? Or were they the kind who only attend church on Christmas and Easter? It doesn't matter - I know from experience that even a visit here and there can touch your heart.

We watched movies with the kids after Mass and stayed up late...therefore we slept late...but not as late as our kids. Tommy got up relatively early because he's puppy-sitting his girlfriend's dog Josie - I don't mind...I couldn't ask for a sweeter "grandpuppy". So he, Tom and I ate breakfast together...a huge breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast we only have three times a year...on Christmas, Mother's Day and Father's Day.

Daniel and Kendall finally woke up (with a little help from Tommy and Josie) but no one was in a hurry to open presents. Tom, Tommy, Josie, Max and I went for a walk - Max doesn't know what to think of Josie, a Rottwieler/terrier mix...she's a little tornado, running and spinning in circles around him. He's smitten.

It has been a beautiful day...full of sunshine and blue skies. We didn't buy many presents, so I spent the day in the kitchen, trying to fulfill wishes...baking a turkey, dressing, pumpkin pie, broccoli cheese casserole...all the things they asked for, but so out of character for me. I have cooked more in the last month than I have in two years! The boys were wonderful...Tommy chopped veggies for me, Daniel hung around ready to do whatever I needed, from sauteing celery and onion to playing a quick game of ping-pong before it got too dark...one of the things I'd hoped for for Christmas.

Dinner was traditional turkey and dressing, on my rarely used wedding china and crystal, followed by pumpkin pie and everyone crowded on a couch downstairs to watch the new Star Trek movie.

Tommy slipped out early to visit with his longtime friend Graham...we took over watching Josie for him, so she ended up on the couch with us for a little while. We figured it was our job to spoil her just a little more.

It's time for bed, but I glanced at Facebook just to check up on all my "people" and came across this note by my cousin Joanna, which I thought was a wonderful reminder for all of us about what Christmas is all about; we are all angels if we choose to be...

"Now I don't claim to be a writer but I am a thinker. I have family members who are writers, my daughter Ashley and my very talented cousin Barbara.
But I do want to share an interesting thing that happened yesterday on the way home from my parents. We stopped at a new little country store in Buna, Tx. I am recovering from bronchitis and not feeling a 100 % and truth be known, blue from having to leave my parents home on christmas eve to go back to work. Anyways the family went in the store, I stayed in the van with the grandson. I guess I must have looked sad, sick or something because I looked up to catch a man's eye. He mouthed Merry Christmas, I smiled and mouthed back Merry Christmas. He smiled and mouthed Its going to be okay, and pointed to the sky and smiled the most perfect smile that lit his whole face up. Well I smiled backed and thanked him. That perfect stranger made my day so much brighter and reminded me that Jesus is the reason for this season. Not presents, nor not getting to spend the day of Christmas with my parents, but because of his birth and everything his life became. I get so bogged down in silly things that I forget that reason ALOT!! Well I never claim to be perfect.
I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and I hope this new year brings happiness and healing to all those who need it. This past year has been really hard and trying on alot of friends and family members. I will continue to write down my thoughts, so bear with me, because I am a thinker not a writer... " 

I beg to differ on the "writer" part...and to think I used to babysit this girl...! Her note reminded me of this quote I read in Catholic Digest magazine...

"I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses." - Taylor Caldwell, American writer

We are not alone because Jesus is God but he was also a man...he experienced what we experience...friendship, family, love...loss, disappointment, loneliness...there is nothing we can feel that he hasn't already experienced himself.

No matter what we feel, he understands. That's almost the best Christmas gift ever. Merry Christmas, everyone!

It's Christmas Eve...

Last night Tom and I fell asleep with the sound of voices in our ears...the rare sound of young voices just outside our bedroom door fighting to be heard in their eagerness to share stories, peppered with shouts, gasps and laughs. It's been months since we've had anything but silence in our ears as we drift off, and in the not-so-distant past, I would have been up shushing those voices and shooing them downstairs so I could get some sleep.

But last night the voices brought a smile to my face, and despite the ruckus, I was out within minutes.

I loved having these kids back in my house...I say "kids" even though technically they're all adults now, ranging in age from 18 to 21, recently returned from Egypt, New York City, China and various cities in Texas...but to me they'll always be kids, and when I look at them, I'll see them as they were in elementary school...junior high...high school. As students...actors...band members...scouts...soccer, basketball and football players.

I didn't have a lot of books of my own when I was growing up, but book-addict that I am, you can bet that I still have every single one of them. For some reason having all those kids here, listening to their stories about experiences far from our small town, reminded me of one of my favorites...The Seven Wonderful Cats...just a little children's book about an old lady that adopts seven kittens. In one part she lets them go away to school. She misses them terribly, but soon they return and entertain her with stories about their adventures away from home. Last night I felt like Dame Wiggins of Lee (the old lady in the book), amazed at and proud of the experiences and accomplishments of these kids that have grown up before my eyes.

Today I can hear the wind roaring through the trees outside. A cold front blew in last night, dropping temperatures 30 degrees to a more Christmas-y level. Tom is cleaning out the wood-burning stove, preparing to start a fire. What little shopping I had to do is done and now my Christmas Eve day will be spent baking cookies, wrapping a few gifts, hanging out with the kids, praying for Tommy's safe arrival this afternoon and sharing Christmas Eve Mass with my whole gang.

I hope all of you have a blessed Christmas as well...

My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that? - Bob Hope American comedian  and actor, 20th century

 

The Christmas Story Luke 2:1-20

1 In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to his own town to register. 4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.

6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. 8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ [a] the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." 13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." 15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem ad see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about." 16 So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17 When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

 

 

Those Little Things

This will not be a 'big' Christmas for us, as in piles of wrapped gifts under the tree. We're already buried under college loans and (yes, I hate to admit it) credit card debt....all those family trips and Fiftieth Birthday get-togethers are catching up with us, I guess. No need to bury ourselves any further with gifts we don't need.

And the key word is need. Sure...maybe I dream of new towels that aren't stained and frayed...and I admit I slow down near the jewelry, shoe and purse departments...and wouldn't it be nice to have a real leather coat...?

But I don't need any of those things (perhaps the towels, but even those can wait a little while longer. And who wants towels for Christmas, anyway??)

Fortunately, our kids are old enough to understand this, and that if they really need something, we'll help them get it. More fortunately, they are great kids who haven't asked for anything...in fact, they won't give me any ideas at all to pass on to Santa. Maybe they feel paying half of their college costs is enough. 

(Here's some advice for new parents...think carefully about the traditions you begin. When ours were small, we had this brilliant idea...we explained that Santa only delivered one present apiece to each child in the world because he had so many to take care of! Anything else came from us, and if they didn't get much, it was because we didn't have much money. That way Santa's reputation was never tarnished, my kids didn't get complexes thinking Santa liked their friends more than them, we didn't feel we had to buy them everything they asked for, and they knew they weren't getting everything they wanted, so they needed to think hard about it.)

My problem is I still want to give...I want to hit the malls and buy all of my friends and family at least one gift. I want to hide in the library with wrapping paper, tape, bows and tags and disguise all of the gifts...imagining the delighted expressions on my loved ones' faces when they rip into the wrapping and see what I bought them.

I'm trying to flip my brain around...think of ways to give without spending (much) money. After all, some of the things I've been given that mean the most to me haven't cost a dime.

For instance, Daniel is sitting behind me as I write, watching a program on PBS about Christianity in ancient Rome...he's telling me about papers and things he translated in his Latin class this semester that are mentioned on the program...stories about saints and other historical figures he learned about. For a while TG lounged next to him on the couch and in between talking to me, they talked about kids from school...laughing, teasing, sharing.

Now they're heading out the door together...she has talked him into going with her into town to hang out with friends....

What more could they give me than to enjoy each other's company?

The only thing my family has asked me for is food: I will be cooking and cooking over the holidays...Daniel requested Cyclops cookies and King Ranch casserole...Tom requested turkey and dressing...TG requested broccoli cheese casserole...Tommy just requested "food" in general. (My gift...all three kids will be here again!)

Yesterday morning TG and I stopped by the veterinarian's office on our way to work. They had made an imprint of Charly's pawprint and it was ready to be picked up. I didn't take it out of the blue satin bag until after work - I had to prepare myself. But what a precious gift. I'd rather have Charly, of course, but it was such a compassionate gesture and a keepsake I'll cherish. 

Today I mentioned on Facebook that I've strained my rotator cuff. Right away I had plenty of advice and sympathy, wrapped in expressions of concern and topped with offers of prayer. A beautiful Christmas present.

A friend reminded me the other day about the importance of a phone call. It hit home with me because I'm terrible about making phone calls. Anyway, he explained how a friend's wife had died, and even though he'd had good intentions of calling him once a week, the weeks had become months. But something made him call his friend the other day; it turned out to be the anniversary of the wife's death. He said...

"...As we said good-bye Big Ted said these words: 'Thanks for calling. I love you.' I was taken aback and said 'Me too.' Big Ted has never said he loved me. I truly felt that he needed that call and I am so thankful for a loving, merciful and patient God. Coincidence? Maybe so, but I would like to think that little voice I heard on Friday was the Holy Spirit. Yes...I have been putting off calling and should have, but God knew Big Ted needed that call and I am so thankful that I did not crush or put off that small little voice..."

The best gifts don't cost money. The best gift we can give is our time...our prayer...our concern...our love.  After all, look at the example we've been given...the one that begins on Christmas Day.

West Texas weekend - Kirby, windmills, and Merkel cousins

The first thought in my mind and the first words out of my mouth this morning..."I'm tired..." even before my feet hit the floor. Probably not the best way to start a Monday, but I wouldn't trade this past whirlwind West Texas weekend for anything. It was totally worth the exhaustion, and not just because I had all three of my kids together again. (There will be plenty of time to sleep in January...right?)

The weekend started Friday morning...my crew headed west to Lubbock for Tommy's girlfriend Kirby's graduation from Texas Tech University. We were driving through Abilene before I realized we would be passing within single digit miles of my cousin Sherlyn's house (this is one of my problems - sometimes I focus on the big picture in an abstract way...in this case, the graduation...and forget about the details...like the journey out there.)

"Hey, Sherlyn...what're you doing?"

"Having lunch with a friend. What are you doing?"

"Driving through Abilene..."

"What???"

She was at a restaurant right next to the highway, so we met her there and followed her back to her house for a quick visit with her and some of her kids. We promised to stop on our way back home for lunch and a longer visit on Sunday.

I love driving through West Texas...but that always always catches me by surprise. In my mind, it's flat and empty...in reality, it's full of surprise drop-offs, canyons and plateaus...vistas that go for miles and miles. Beautiful! How can I forget them?

My only prior experience with Lubbock was passing through on my way to Colorado, and I have to admit, it had never really impressed me before...it seemed a little, um, drab. But by the time Sunday rolled around and it was time to leave, I was hoping we could come back some day - we never even made it to the Buddy Holly museum or the Llano winery, much less Palo Duro Canyon, only a couple of hours away. (Bucket list #44..."Return to Lubbock")

However, we still had a packed weekend...besides the graduation itself early Saturday morning, we got a taste of Kirby's college life outside of class (drinks at Crickets Grill and Draft House on Friday night and margaritas at Chimy's on Saturday afternoon). Also on Saturday, we celebrated with her family at a luncheon at her sorority house and a dinner at Lisa West's Double Nickel Steakhouse (melt-in-your-mouth steaks!), and even slipped in one side trip of our own...a visit to the Windmill Museum!

We were happy we could help Kirby celebrate her graduation - despite transferring from another college and switching majors, and being treasurer of her sorority, she still graduated in only 3 1/2 years with a degree in finance! That is something to celebrate!

Just seeing the university was special for me for another reason, though. After World War II, my dad attended Texas Tech for one or two semesters (it might have been more - I never can remember) before leaving to follow his dream of becoming a Texas Highway Patrolman.

We made it to Sherlyn's by lunchtime on Sunday. I'm ashamed to admit it, but even though they live less than four hours away, until this weekend it had been almost eighteen years since we'd been to their house. (Thank goodness she had made trips to Houston and Austin to see us!) We vowed to be back soon.

I was eager to get home, though. I worried about Max being left there without Charly. (Frankie is company, but he's not Charly.) I needn't have worried; Max was fine. Frankie actually seemed the most relieved that we were home...he hovered near the door and snuck inside when it opened, taking advantage of us being loaded down with luggage. He made a quick inspection of the livingroom, then, satisfied it was safe, I guess, headed out the French doors when Tom went out to get some firewood. Good guard guinea.

Scenes from Kirby's graduation...

Windmills...a Dandy like ours...old next to new...

 
Tom, me, Sherlyn, Scott...cousins by birth, friends by choice...distance has never been able to keep us apart...

The Thing About Neighbors...

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

Dennis lived in Long Hollow first - years and years before anyone else thought it was appealing to live down a dirt road. He had the place all to himself, except for a few neighbors on the hills surrounding the hollow.

And then we showed up, bringing our three kids and two dogs out on the weekends to clear bits of the property, picnic and dream of the day we would live out here. Tom would rev up the backhoe and play like a little boy with a Tonka Truck.

Then the kids got older...busier...our visits were fewer and fewer...I'm sure Dennis secretly hoped we would be like all of the other property owners out here who never actually get around to building. We started wondering ourselves!

In the meantime others discovered the Hollow. Houses started going up, mostly on the surrounding hills. Just as we fell into the rapids of our own homebuilding, the first big neighbor vs. neighbor problem arose. It was a big one, about whether businesses were allowed out here and whether the Homeowner's Association carried any weight at all. It ultimately went to court.

We had our opinion on the issue, but were too busy trying to meet deadlines and pay bills to get involved. The downside was the demise of the Homeowner's Association and all deed restrictions. We're feeling the affects of that decision now...I think if it had gone the other way, we wouldn't have this crumbling wall of dirt on the end of our pond right now. No one could just buy property and do whatever popped into their heads out here...the deed restrictions protected the natural beauty of the hollow and everyone's investment from people who didn't spare a thought for anyone but themselves...who couldn't see beyond their own bit of land or how it was connected to the rest of the Hollow...the creek...our ponds...Lake Travis...and on and on...

Now Dennis told us this week that he's been having problems similar to ours...a neighbor who doesn't respect property lines. That's all he thought it was until a county inspector came out and discovered the neighbor had dug a pit for his personal "waste" which, when the rain ultimately hit the Hollow, overflowed into their pond and drifted merrily downstream to us. Yeah, thanks. Our little waterfall doesn't sound quite as pretty now.

But neighbors can be a good thing, too. For instance, take Dennis...Tom was out here working on the backhoe one weekend years ago, when we still lived in town. The ground was soft and the backhoe flipped. Thank goodness Tom wasn't hurt, but the backhoe had a busted tire and he couldn't drive it back home, so he walked down to Dennis' house and Dennis gave him a lift home (it was during those archaic pre-cell-phone days.)

It's because of another neighbor up the hill that we have trash service out here. And during that tragic fight between Charly and his brother Chewy soon after we moved in, the neighbor behind us heard my screams and cries and came through the woods to see what was wrong. He's the one that got them broken apart before they killed each other. If he hadn't come running, ready to help, I'm sure I wouldn't have had these last few years with Charly.

When our new neighbors downstream actually began building a house, we lamented not having this whole section of the Hollow to ourselves anymore and worried about what it would be like living so close to people again! But the truth is, it's been a joy. (And it's not just because they gave us a ping-pong table and a set of drums they didn't want anymore!)

We discovered we have many things in common...Andy is a contractor and likes to play cribbage. Reba is many things...gardener, cook, artist...but also a writer (you can read some of her writings on Dog Canyon.) And bless their hearts, they are peacemakers, trying to smooth out all of the feathers that keep getting ruffled in our little corner of the world. They are friends with everyone...very forgiving...you just have to admire that.

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

If only everyone else down here cared enough to understand that little nugget of truth...maybe we'd all truly be neighbors.

Sweet Kisses and Skipping

Christmas is the season of joy, but it's easy to let that joy get buried by to-do lists, exhaustion and financial stress.

Yesterday I re-discovered a sure-fire way to bust that joy back out of the rubble...skipping!

I really have no idea why the notion to skip entered my brain, but there I was on our morning walk, returning from the bend, and something inside of me said SKIP! So I skipped.

Do you remember that scene when little boy Forrest Gump is running from the bullies ("Run, Forrest, run!") and his leg braces come loose and get left in the dust behind him? That's how it felt when I skipped...the to-do lists and the stress and the worries just broke loose and got left behind...once again, I was ten years old. At least for a little while, anyway.

I'm sure anyone looking on would have thought, That is one crazy lady! There I was, this fifty-year old woman skipping along the dirt road, with a guinea fowl and a giant German Shepherd trotting along beside me.

But it was FUN! Joyful! It made the gray sky disappear, made my heart feel lighter and brought a smile to my face! I skipped again this morning and plan to do it every morning from here on out, as long as I am physically able. (It's also great exercise!)

I told Tom he should try it at work when he's feeling frustrated, but he pointed out that it might land him on the "lay-off" list, and I guess he's right. They would think he had flipped. Perhaps there are times when skipping wouldn't help, after all...

Max enjoys my skipping, but I think Frankie's a little annoyed: he doesn't have as much time to snack on our walks anymore (I can move pretty fast!)

I can tell Max still misses Charly, so every morning I linger after he eats to cuddle him. He gives me hugs (he wraps his leg around my leg) and "sweet" kisses...little nibbles on my arm which sometimes result in tiny blood blisters, but he's at least trying to be gentle!

I know he must be lonely - Frankie is a chatterbox, but Max knows he can't even give Frankie "sweet" kisses, much less play with him. I don't see us getting a puppy any time soon, but then, we never know what's going to wander up out of the woods and adopt us. God might have another surprise visitor out there waiting right now for the right time to make an appearance. I'd rather let him pick out our puppy...or whatever...anyway. He always knows just what we need.

From a Certain Perspective

We had two Christmas parties this weekend. Saturday night was so much fun and we stayed up so late, though, that it was hard to work up enthusiasm for our annual church dinner/dance Sunday night. None of our closest friends planned to attend and I couldn't help but wish we had bought tickets to the Daughtry concert instead. But we had tickets to the dinner (prime rib!) so we dressed ourselves up and went. We could always skip out right after dinner if we wanted to...

As it turned out, we were among the last to leave. The clean-up crew was blowing out candles and gathering up tablecloths while we took a final two-step around the dancefloor. The food was delicious, we made new friends with the couples at our table... faces we had exchanged smiles with at church, but never really gotten to know...and we danced! Tom made it all the way through the Cotton-Eyed Joe AND the Schottiche this time, and I represented my generation in several line dances.

Daughtry who?

Isn't it funny how your perspective about something can change so completely?

I've been pouring out my words and thoughts here on Long Hollow for almost a year and a half. That's so hard for me to believe! I wasn't sure what to expect when I started. It was a little scary - throwing them out here for anyone to read...very similar to how it felt reading my weekly compositions aloud so many years ago in my first creative writing class.

From the very beginning I was undecided about the "ads" issue on blogs - I avoided giving in to them, afraid they would be intrusive or look tacky...because, let's face it, sometimes they are and they do. But I also had to face the fact that if there was a way to make some money from my blog...even a few pennies...I needed to try. So I was very excited when the email came last week letting me know my blog was accepted into the Blogher network. I have no illusions of quitting my job anytime soon because of my blog income, but if I can make anything at all on this legal addiction of mine, I'll feel really good about it.

Perspective.

A friend sent me an e-mail yesterday about perspective. It was one of those that has made its rounds numerous times,  kinda corny and wrapped up a little too neatly, about a wealthy father who takes his son out to the country "with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live". Upon their return home, the father asks his son what he has learned. The boy replies...

"I saw that we have one dog and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us; they have friends to protect them....Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."

Perspective.

I have friends who, in traditional ways, are wealthier than we are. Yesterday I found out they were having to say goodbye to their old puppy, but where we had the opportunity to be with Charly, to hug him and hold him so that the last thing he saw on this earth were our tear-streaked faces and the last thing he heard was "we love you", they had to say a quick good-bye and rush off to the hospital for a family emergency - a kind that they are all too familiar with. In that moment, I felt very rich, very blessed, very grateful.

Perspective.

A Day in the Mall, a Night in the Hangar...It Must be Christmas Time!

A blanket of thick fog settled on our bit of the world yesterday evening - it made driving the hilly, serpentine roads out here pretty tricky! When we woke up this morning, we still looked out at a white world, but by mid-morning, when I fed Max and Frankie, it had lifted, leaving the trees and grass sparkling with dew and the sky so blue it seemed it had been scrubbed clean.

I'm glad it waited until today to clear up - yesterday was filled with shopping...in and out of malls and stores. This sky would have been wasted! Except for a walk with the guys right after Mass, I still spent too much time indoors today but I was always near a window where I could at least see the sunshine if not spend my whole day in it.

Last night we celebrated the Christmas season with friends in their airplane hangar/home...lots of food, music and faces we don't see often enough anymore. Before we knew it, it was 2 am!! We're feeling it today, even as we prepare for another Christmas party. I have a feeling we'll be slipping out of this one early tonight!

Me with the hostess Rachel...

Host Carl (far right) with his son, his Irish mother and her twin sister...

Carl arranged for a bagpipe performance in honor of his mom and their Irish heritage...it was awesome!

This band was fantastic! The Eric Tessmer Band...mostly played blues...Eric's fingers would turn into a blur on his guitar...they're the main reason we lost track of time! You need to keep an eye out for these guys...

Carl showing off his latest acquisition, an OV-1 Mohawk, a plane that flew in Viet Nam -an amazing piece of history...

 

"Count your age by friends..."

After the outpouring of love and support over the past few days about Charly's death, I don't think I want to "count my age by friends"...I'd be really, really old! I know there will be days when the Charly memories hit me hard...I know there will be tears...but right now God has answered prayers and I feel a warm, fuzzy cushion all around me. I feel blessed because I had weeks to prepare myself for Charly's death and shower him in love and attention beforehand and I feel blessed because of all the friends who have stepped up with words of comfort.

I'm afraid if I counted my age by friends...oh, what the heck - I would just look really good for my age because it would be way over 50, that's for sure!

"Count your age by friends, count your life by smiles." - Author Unknown

This was the complete quote that my friend Stacy posted as her Facebook status this evening. It resonated with me...and not just because of the support we've received about Charly. I realized what a blessing Facebook has been in my life.

If my kids read my blog, they would roll their eyes right now. They still believe "old" people like me shouldn't be on Facebook. But over the last few months I have gotten to know people in a way you just don't have time for otherwise...both family and friends...people from past jobs and from around town that I don't bump into anymore...people from high school that I regret I didn't really know back then. (I've heard people say "If I wasn't friends with them in high school, why would I want to be friends with them now?" Well, I feel it's better late than never. For the most part, we've gotten over our angst and insecurities - we've grown up and can be our true selves now. And let me tell you...I went to school with some amazing people!)

One of the most rewarding aspects of Facebook has been reconnecting with people who were huge parts of my life and then, somehow, they just slipped away. How does this happen? Why do we let it happen?

One of those friends is Don. We became friends through church in junior high...briefly girlfriend/boyfriend but mostly brother/sister. We spent hours on the phone. We were best friends. Then we went separate ways...

But through Facebook and mutual friends we've become friends again. No...brother and sister again. I haven't seen him in person, but that doesn't matter. The years have been brushed away. (I admit, this is still the way I picture him, despite the fact that he's a grandpa now...this was taken on a church choir trip in 8th grade...)

It's a little bit of a risk when you come across a name from your past - will they remember me? If they do, what do they remember? Was I nice to them the last time we spoke? But being fifty is very liberating. I'm willing to take a chance and assume they remember me, and that they are as eager as I am to reconnect, and they'll forgive me for any past transgressions. If they're not, so be it. At least I tried.

Considering all of that, I have been blessed this week. Even as I mourned Charly, God put these other people in my path, people from my childhood...people I think of every time we drive down Washington to my parents' house. We turn onto Washington from Beltway...that's Vickie's house. And there on the corner of my block - that's where Guy and Gary lived...and the other corner - that's where Ricky lived.

I stumbled upon Gary first, on a page created for Deepwater people like me. He had posted something on there, and with his unusual last name, I knew it had to be him. Still, he was older than me...would he remember me? He did.

Then I saw Vickie's name...and then Ricky's. I remember that time we were dropped off at the Capitan theater...me, Vickie and Ricky (they're cousins)...and she was put in charge of us (she was probably 8, Ricky was 6, and I was 5...maybe) and she decided instead of watching the movie, we should walk to her aunt's house a couple of miles away through the heart and across many busy streets of Pasadena. Let me vouch for her...she got us across those streets and to her aunt's house safe and sound!

Today I "talked" to both Vickie and Ricky for the first time in close to 40 years, and it felt as natural as if we had shared that adventure yesterday.

Ricky...he was my first friend outside of my family...part of my earliest memories. We spent almost every day together for the first ten years of my life. And then we parted. I don't remember the last time I talked to him. How does that happen, that you are so close to a person, practically family, and then POOF! they're gone?

I guess you get to a certain point in your life when you grow apart. The connection you had never goes away...you remember the person, remember the times you shared...but before Facebook came along, chances were you would never see that person again - they would stay in your heart as memories, but that was it. In that way, Facebook is a pathway for miracles. And I'm so grateful for the miracles that have come my way this past year.

"It's no good trying to keep up old friendships. It's painful for both sides. The fact is, one grows out of people, and the only thing is to face it." - W. Somerset Maugham

I feel sorry for Maugham...I guess he didn't live long enough to see that you can grow back into people. I'm so grateful I have. But then, he didn't have Facebook. I'm so grateful I do.

(me and Ricky in his back yard...circa 1963...my house was the brown one two doors down, where the laundry is hanging out to dry...)

 

 

The Next Day...

This morning I slept later than usual...I reset my alarm three times and finally just turned it off. Eventually, I remembered all of the things I needed to do before work and rolled out of bed, just as the sun was coming up.

I stepped through my morning routine, piddling with little tasks. I knew eventually I would have to step outside the door to take Max for our walk...I would have to face Charly's absence...and so I kept putting it off until I had to go - I was running out of time, but I owed it to Max.

So I did it - I stepped out on the porch and said "Let's go for a walk!" Max rose from his bed and came to me, whimpering. I scratched his head and said, "I know."

And then we walked. Frankie started off with us, but then went back to the house, like he did yesterday. But Max and I walked to the curve and back.

He was confused that we walked so fast. He disappeared into the woods and when he came back out, I was ahead of him.

It was different, this walk. I've spent so many years walking with Charly...even this morning, I felt he was there beside me. But even with Max beside me on the return trip, I felt a sense of loneliness. I think Max felt it, too.

On the return trip, I looped around to where we buried him, to check on his spot. I wanted to make sure nothing had disturbed it. I spent a few minutes there, thinking about those first walks with him, when we first got to really know each other after his fight with Chewy...when I had to walk him on the leash after his surgery. We'd follow this loop down to the pond, up the driveway and down the road a bit, going slow because of his injury. The fight had been a tragedy, no doubt about that. But out of it came this friendship that I will always treasure.

Today was easier than I expected it to be. I guess it's because I know we made the right decision - I wish we hadn't had to make it, but it was forced upon us. I loved him too much to watch him go down any further.

We've had many sweet messages from friends and they all truly help - even though we've been through this before, for some reason it helps to hear from others who have lost pets and know exactly what we are going through.

I'm trying hard to repress certain thoughts...like the fact that Max is already six years old, and a big dog...a very big dog...so we probably have, perhaps, four more years with him, if we're lucky. Four years will fly by.

And Frankie...how old is he? How long do guineas live?

No, I won't think about these things, except to remember to treat every day with them like it might be my last. I'll give Frankie his seed and talk to him because he's a chatterbox and so sociable...and I'll try to remember to brush Max every day, because he likes it, and to let him snuggle on me and give me "sweet kisses" even though they pinch and hurt like hell sometimes, because he's such an affectionate dog...and as much as I'd love to, I won't have him forever. Except in my heart, of course, with Charly.

Charly Dog

Charly stopped eating last night. This morning he was too weak to go for a walk...even though Tom had the day off and would be joining us. So I stayed behind and petted him until Tom and Max returned, not wanting him to be alone.

I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I had hoped he would go peacefully in his sleep before he began to suffer more than just the aches and pains of old age. But life can be sweet...and it can be sour...and there are times we don't get what we want. Given the choice of him suffering for days  and dying while we were at work,(and it was obvious he was beginning to suffer), or drifting off to join his brother Chewy and his "Mama" Maggie while Tom and I hugged him and whispered how much we loved him...well, it was still a tough decision to make, but we chose being there with him.

So we made the appointment...the latest one possible. Tom spent his day off being close to Charly - much like I did on my day off last week. This afternoon Charly actually rallied for a walk, and I began to have doubts about our decision, until I watched him trying to make his way down the road, so painfully slow that I ached for him.

Back home I brushed him and brushed him...and then it was time.

It was over so quickly - there had only been a few strands of life left in him, but he was hanging on tight to those and I know it was because he was such an awesome dog, so bound to his duty of taking care of us that he couldn't, he wouldn't, let go, no matter what.

"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself." - Josh Billings

We buried him near Chewy's grave and marked it with a beautiful iron cross I had bought with the intention of placing it near the other pets' graves. I'm grateful for my procrastinating ways at times. 

It was dark before we finished piling rocks on top of the dirt, to protect him from the grave-robbing varmints out there, and wandered back up to the house to let Max out of the laundry room. He promptly tucked his tail, laid down his ears and slunk into the dog house. Any other time, he would have gone looking for Charly. He knew.

I'm going to miss Charly, especially tomorrow morning. We've been walking together almost every morning for over six years. The walks before that don't count - they were leash-walks. Now we walked as friends connected by love and companionship, not leashes. I dread walking out in the morning and not seeing his big brown eyes looking up at me and that white tail wagging, hopeful.

Yeah, I'm going to miss him. Damn, he was a good dog.

In one of C.S. Lewis' books about Narnia - "The Last Battle", I think - he offers his idea of what heaven will be like - a bucolic place with green fields, lots of trees, clear streams...and animals or pets that have passed from this life. That image has become my own picture of heaven and in my mind now, I can see Charly, filled out like a butterball like he used to be, his ears flopping as he runs through the grass, playing with Chewy...

That helps a little. But I'm still going to miss my Charly.

Charly's baby pics...with brother Chewy...with "Mama" Maggie...

Last pictures taken, Thanksgiving weekend, with the boys...

Run and play in peace, Charly Dog.

I bet my "funny holiday road trip" story is better than yours!

...and I'll even sweeten the bet with $200! Well, technically Blogher and Sprint will. I've partnered with Blogher to write for their product reviews program and the first assignment was to write about a funny holiday road trip.

That was easy...I wrote about the trip we took to my husband Tom's youngest brother John's wedding in Huatabampo, Mexico, at Christmas time in 1998...about how Tom and his dad changed our route at the last minute and we ended up crossing through Mexico's Sierra Madre mountains on twisty, curvy, pot-hole ridden roads in the middle of the night...the pitch-black night. You can read the complete story on Long Hollow Conversations by clicking here.

Blogher and Sprint are sponsoring a contest and the winner gets a $200 Visa Gift Card. (Confession...my story isn't eligible for the contest.) All you have to do to enter is share your own funny holiday road story in the comments section of my story, "A Feliz Navidad to Remember". You can read the complete contest rules there as well.

Well, what are you waiting for? (Good luck!)

A Two-Candle Week

There are some weeks when lighting one candle just isn't enough. This has been one of them. So many of my friends and family - and my friends' families - are in need of prayer right now...from sickness, emergency hospitalizations or kids in trouble...they need our prayers for healing.

And then there are so many who are feeling the loss of loved ones during these holidays...they need our prayers for strength and peace.

It is also the week of finals for my kids and others...a week of stress and headaches and frustration, most likely...they need our prayers for determination, focus and confidence.

Today was a Holy Day of Obligation in the Catholic Church - the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Despite deadlines and to-do lists, I was grateful for a chance to slip into the church tonight, to remember all of those needing extra prayer. And before I left, I lit another vigil candle. It just feels like that kind of week.

Please join me in offering up these prayers...

Making the Rounds

It has happened before...I step outside to take the critters for our walk, and they've started without me! But this morning I was surprised to find Charly gone - he isn't moving very far from his bed these days unless we say "walk"...several times...loudly.

But nonetheless, both beds were empty, so I started calling their names. Max came bounding up from the direction of the pond within seconds, but there was no sign of Charly. I continued calling his name and headed off in the direction Max had come from, asking him to lead me to Charly. And he did. I spotted him plodding along, following the trail that leads beside the creek...following the trail we've traveled hundreds of times over the years. I just followed his lead, letting him wander where he wanted (praying he didn't get so close to the water that he fell in - I would have to go in after him and I knew that water was cold!) He ventured down one steep bank, but managed to work his way back to the top without my help.Thank goodness I didn't have to carry him this time!

Eventually we made our way back to the road, down to the bend and headed back home...over an hour had passed since I'd stepped outside. I couldn't help wondering if this was Charly's last walk...but dang if he doesn't keep surprising me, that old dog. I'm not placing any bets on this one...just taking it day by day and grateful for every extra minute I get with him, sweet old thing...as long as he's not in pain, that is.

Post-Thanksgiving...Pre-Christmas

The turkey soup landed in the garbage can tonight. I was sad to see it go...it was the first Leftover-Turkey Soup I've ever made, and it was good! But Tom and I can only eat so much...and then only so much of the same thing for just so many days in a row.

That's one of the problems with an Empty Nest - too much food goes in the garbage. Right now we still have leftover pork chops AND chili, and way more oranges, apples, grapes and lunchmeat than Tom and I can eat by ourselves. More Thanksgiving turkey and ham would have gone in the garbage, but it's the only thing Charly would eat. Now it's all gone and he's working on the lunchmeat and white bread.

It seems just about the time I adjust my cooking and shopping to the number of mouths expecting to be fed, the number of kids in the house changes again...either coming home or heading back to school. It takes awhile to adjust my buying and cooking appropriately.

Even though we had the pork chops, I had to make chili Friday night. That's what you make on snow days...even if the snow only falls for 5 minutes and doesn't stick to anything.

We also made it because we had guests that left Houston, where a rare snowfall actually accumulated a few inches, to visit us for the weekend...my niece Christin and her friend Ashley. We couldn't just serve them leftover pork chops, for goodness sakes...not if they left snow to see us!

Christin came bearing movies I hadn't yet seen - we had a Double Feature Movie Night - "August Rush" (what a sweet story - a combination fantasy, musical and love story, rolled into one) AND "Australia" which was good, but long...I admit I took a short nap in the middle of it. I should have known better than to try to watch two movies in a row after a long, emotional week. I'll give it another try later, with a big bowl of popcorn handy!

Saturday was absolutely gorgeous - brilliant sunshine and perfect temperatures. We took the girls and the critters for a walk to the corner. While we searched for fossils, Charly headed off toward some nearby property where there's a dead dog (Daniel had told us about it - he said someone had shot it, which you can imagine made me a little nervous.) I called and called, but the stubborn old dog wouldn't come back, so we had to follow him. When Frankie realized there was a dead dog there, he started squawking and squawking. It took a while for him to calm down, poor bird.

I finally got Charly away from the dead dog; he headed toward the creek and we just let him lead the way. He didn't have a problem going downhill to the creekbed, but going back up on the other side was a different story: I had to carry him up the steep bank, about ten feet. I had to carry him again a little while later when he was determined to continue our walk along the creek across our "dam" neighbor's property - he doesn't understand why we can't walk there anymore, after so many years. I pleaded, begged and tugged on his collar, but finally gave up and just lifted him up - he wagged his tail as I huffed and puffed up to the road.

Next, Christin, Ashley and I jumped in the car and headed downtown to grab Kendall and go shopping. Ah, the mall at Christmas...crazy! But I got my Panda Express Orange Chicken fix and found some good deals on the clearance racks at Macy's.

After dropping Kendall off at her dorm, I took a detour through downtown Austin to show Christin and Ashley the Capitol Building and Congress Avenue all lit up for Christmas. Then I drove down 6th Street so she could say she'd been there...technically speaking...and then zoomed home in time to watch the University of Texas vs. Nebraska game...a real nail-biter but UT pulled it off at the end to win the Big 12 Championship. Whew!

It doesn't seem possible that December is already 1/4 of the way over, does it? This week's agenda: Christmas shopping...Christmas cards...Christmas parties...

And hanging over it all...Charly.

Fading Away

"...I want to get leaner and meaner, sharp-edged & earth-colored, till I fade away from pure joy."

This is part of a verse written on a plaque that a friend gave me a few years ago. I thought of these words as I strolled beside Charly this morning on our walk.

Yes, he's still scrambling up to go on our walks. He's weak...we stopped for breaks a few times on the way to the bend this morning, and each time I offered to go back home, but he would just stand for a few minutes (and I'd rub his ears and belly) then head off again, determined to go all the way.

But the verse came to mind because he is just fading away, right before our eyes. He's getting leaner and more sharp-edged (as in bony) each day, since he's barely eating. And if "meaner" indicates a strong, determined will...synonymous with "stubborn"...then he's getting meaner every day, too.

He has always been earth-colored...the same whites, tans and yellows of our caliche road...and joyful, especially on our walks - sniffing the breeze, following the trail of a rabbit or deer, or running down the road with Max. Watching him brings me joy.

He's an outside dog. A country dog. We brought him in last night and probably will again tonight because of the cold, but for his sake, I hope when the time comes for him to fade completely away, he's outside on his bed, with the sound of the birds and the creek in his ears, the smell of Max, Frankie and the critters of the woods nearby, and the knowledge that he's done a good job in his sweet heart.

Separations and Connections

Twenty-four years ago today I became a new person...a mother. Becoming a mother revealed qualities within me that I never dreamed existed. "Self-centered" and "self-indulgent" were stripped away the moment I set eyes on the little life we named Tommy...the miracle combination of me and Tom that God created and presented back to us. From that moment on, I felt the weight of responsibility for someone other than myself. I think it even surprised Tom that motherhood would have such an effect on me.

It's kind of ironic, isn't it? From the moment your baby is born, you both start preparing for the day of separation. Of course, I guess birth is the first step on that journey.

I remember looking at Tommy...this tiny newborn...and just sobbing my eyes out, worrying about a day that he might go off to war. Soon asthma became a greater, more immediate source of fear...I spent many sleepless days and nights watching him struggle to breathe. Then he became a teenager, opening the door to all of the fears I could imagine...drugs, alcohol, car wrecks...

I learned to pray for his protection and my strength...I learned to hand my worries over to God...I learned to let go. And along the way, Tommy became an adult, separate and independent. 

It amazes me when I see him now, so grown up. Not that I'm surprised - when he was a little boy, I caught glimpses of the man he would become. And now, I catch glimpses of the little boy still inside of him, and I'm grateful for that even when the little boy annoys me, but I'm mostly proud of him...so sensible, hard-working, responsible, compassionate, creative, funny...I could go on and on, because I'm still his mother.

We were all together this past weekend - the whole family including Kirby. I remember having this fleeting thought a few weeks ago..."we should celebrate Tommy's birthday while we're in San Antonio"...but then it disappeared, squeezed out by preparations for Thanksgiving, company and our nephew's wedding. I didn't even get a picture of all of us together!

When he turned one, we threw him a party with cake, ice cream, presents...the works. Today he turned 24 and I texted him... "Happy Birthday!"...then I called him to make sure he was celebrating somehow (yes, going out for sushi with some friends, and he got to see Kirby yesterday.) There was no gift to wrap - we just let him skip paying us for his phone this month so he could use the money for a cruise he's taking. I just dropped his card in the mail yesterday - it won't even reach him until tomorrow. 

"I'm such a bad mother."

"No, you're not,"  and that warms my heart because I know he's not just telling me that to make me feel good. I can tell he knows that, even if I don't get a card in the mail to him on time every once in a while, I'm there for him in the things that matter. He knows that if he needs me, I'll drop what I'm doing to take care of whatever he needs. He knows that this separation thing only goes so far, and I'll never really be very far away.

24 years ago, I became a member of the Motherhood Club...Mama, Mam-ma, Tommy and me (four generations)

 

Going all out for a first birthday...cake and presents....

 

A dance is a celebration, isn't it? Except I think this was more for me than him...

To read my birthday tribute to Tommy from last year, click here

Prayers for BV

It wasn't until Monday afternoon that I opened the email letting me know a dear friend had undergone surgery that very morning for life-threatening heart problems. Because of the holiday and busy weekend, I hadn't checked my email for several days...it took me awhile to weed through the crap that had accumulated in my inbox.

Bob (or "BV" as he signs his letters...he calls me "BS") was my teacher for two years in high school. I was on the yearbook staff and he was the teacher/sponsor/Editor-in-Chief. He is sharp-tongued, sarcastic, has a quirky sense of humor and can be brutally honest. That was tough for some students to take, but he and I clicked and have remained friends all these years, because he's also very loyal, generous, and loving. We've butted heads a few times during the years, but cared enough about each other to work things out.

His son sent the email letting me know their holidays were spent by his side in the hospital while he waited for his surgery  -"Bob's adventure", he called it. His wife sent an update Monday evening...he had a triple bypass, a valve replacement and received a pacemaker (I can hear Bob now..."A three for one special!") But his heart was more damaged than they thought - they inserted a balloon pump to let it rest for a few days and repair itself.

I've had no more updates...I'm hoping no news is good news. So for now, I'm just praying. Please join me.

Representatives of The Deer in Denton, Texas on an icy cold December day in 1976 for a yearbook convention - Mike, Kim, Gina, Mary, Brenda, Bob, George and David (I was the amateur photographer even back then!)

December 1st

I'm playing hooky from work today (with permission)...maybe not the wisest decision in many ways, considering the holidays last week (I don't get paid when I'm not there), the expenses of this past weekend, bills that will need to be paid and Christmas just around the corner.

But last year I had boxes piled around the house longer than the house was fully decorated; this year I didn't want it to feel like just another chore on my to-do list.

So I'm listening to Christmas carols, decorating the house and tree with snowmen, Santas, and memories of years past, watching the cold rain fall outside...and hanging out with Charly.

He appeared at the back door about an hour ago and I let him in. (Don't tell Max or Frankie!) It was actually the other reason I wanted to stay home today...to keep an eye on him. He's a walking skeleton, not interested in any food except leftovers from Thanksgiving, which he subsequently throws up. Right now he's stretched out on the rug behind me.

I haven't made much progress on the decorations, actually. He's an outside dog and has had a tough time trying to decide if he wants to be in or out. I've spent a lot of time opening and closing doors, circling the house and just sitting on the floor beside him, rubbing his ears, and, I'll admit it, crying and telling him what a great dog he is and how much I'm going to miss him.

I know his days are numbered. I've been saying that for awhile, I know, but he's going downhill drastically. Tom and I have talked about whether we should take matters into our own hands, so to speak. But how do you know? If he seemed in pain, or totally uninterested in anything, it would be clear. But he's not. He enjoys being near us, getting his ears rubbed. He still wags his tail a lot, and this morning he was scrambling to stand up and step out of his bed before I could get "Let's go for a walk" out of my mouth. He made it down to the bend and back just fine - slow, but just fine.

I guess we'll just take it a day at a time, and for this day, I'm enjoying having him near me as I decorate the house for this blessed, and still joyful, season.