Things I Learned From My Father

 

My dad and Mac

I awoke with a headache, thanks to a big front that's moved in. Sometimes migraines can make me feel emotional and a bit...close to the edge. Maybe I dreamed about him, maybe it was Rick greeting me this morning with the election news of all the Democratic victories, but I find myself thinking of my father so much this morning. 

For those of you who are new here, my dad was a lifelong union man, a steelworker, a former professional fastpitch softball pitcher known as the Lorain Tornado, and staunch Democrat. He was a first generation American, born of two Croatian immigrants. He was a WWII veteran, a deep reader of philosophy, an appreciator of music, and a guardian of Nature. He was also a terrible chauvinist who perplexingly encouraged his three daughters to be independent, confident, free thinkers, to never need a man, and to stand up for themselves always.

Here is a partial list of some other

Things I Learned From My Father

1. Look someone in the eye when you talk to them.

2. Don't be part of The Common Herd.

3. Some people simply cannot help themselves, and they need help from others and their government.

4. The anticipation of an event is just as important as the event itself.

5. Every person has value.

6. Be a good listener and you can talk with anyone.

These are all pretty self-explanatory, but they helped to make me a good teacher, parent, and person. All of us were raised without prejudice, and we were expected to be kind. In the later years of his career, Dad was a security guard at US Steel, working the gatehouses where big trucks came in and out and the workers left after their shift was over. So many of them hung around just to talk to my father, sometimes for an hour or more. It wasn't uncommon for us to be out and about and have several people come up to him and chat, even when we were on our cross-country trip! He knew everyone, and everyone wanted to stop and exchange a few words. Oddly enough, my father used to grumble about this often, saying he preferred to be left alone.

Growing up, I was often frustrated by my demanding father. He was old-fashioned and strict; he seemed as if he didn't trust us. I know now that he didn't trust the world and the people around us. He saw what was out there, more of it than we did. His own childhood was ugly and rough. I wish he had tried to make us understand.

He did see the results of his endeavours, however, both in his children and his grandchildren before he died 25 years ago. I know he found great joy in that.  

Eating My Words: A List Of Nevers That Are Now Alwayses (Is That Even A Word?)

Many, many years ago I was a person of absolutes. I used the words Always and Never liberally in my conversations, and I really meant them when I said them. So many things seemed so clear to me all the time. Distinctions were not fine; they were obvious and defined. I found decisions relatively easy and clear-cut. 

In short, I was an idiot. And young. And lacked the wisdom and experience to know very much at all. As time has gone on, I've learned to stop using words like Always and Never. Instead, I say things like, "I can't imagine myself ever" or "At this point, it's my habit to". 

As you can imagine, I've had to eat my own words many times. Here is a list of

Things I Said I'd Never Do, But Now I Do Them All The Time

1. Text

2. Use the word Text as a verb

3. Go out in public wearing leggings

4. Be okay with my kids having tattoos

5. Wear sneakers any time but for exercise

6. Let Rick go to the grocery store with me

I know, right?

Back in the early days of cellphones, I could not understand how anyone wanted to type on those itty bitty keyboards and pay for the privilege. It just seemed ridiculous to me. I hated all the stupid word shortcuts, too:  ur for your or you're; l8 for late; cu for see you, etc. They irked me. Then! Students started using the word Text as a verb, and worse yet, they added tense endings to it. "He texted me that he'd be absent today." Aaarrgghhh. I swore I'd never, ever use Text as a verb, let alone pay for typing out messages on a minuscule keyboard. Not me! Oh, ha ha it is to laugh.

I held out on leggings for a bit longer, but not by much. Black leggings are my uniform, and you will never, ever pry them out of my grasp. I wear them 3.5 seasons out of the year, and I don't care if I have to use the lint roller every single time I step out of the house. It's worth it. 

Tattoos are so mainstream now that my initial objections seem quaint and stuffy. I still wish my sons did not have them, but that's mainly because they are my babies and I remember them as that. All that beautiful, perfect skin that I knew every unblemished inch of. But their ink doesn't change who they are, and they designed meaningful illustrations, mostly of family emblems and symbols. Will I ever get a tattoo? I can't imagine a scenario in which I would.

See? I've learned to never say Never! How about you? Have you had to eat your words like I have? Or has it usually been your habit to avoid that situation? (I'm pretty good at this now!)

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Cheers! A List Of What I'm Drinking These Days

Back in the days before my Miracle Migraine Medicine, I used to drink Diet Coke and Diet Dr. Pepper all the time. I drank these sodas at school in the classroom even though they gave me tremendous gas. The students used to love when I belched. It was such a bizarre juxtaposition, seeing me standing there, dressed to the nines and teaching Honors English, yet suddenly letting out such enormous burps that usually took me quite by surprise. But once I went on Topamax, the days of drinking soda were over. That med causes a very unpleasant reaction with CO2, and I can't drink anything with lots of carbonation anymore. I manage, somehow, to survive, rest assured. Here is a list of

Things I Can And Do Drink

1. Water

2. Decaf Coffee

3. Herbal Tea

4. Cider Hot Toddy

5. Champagne

6. Martini

7. French 75

8. Wine

9. Some Beer

10. Bloody Mary

Looking at this list, one may think, 'Wow. Nance is a boozy lady.' I wish. In reality, I am a cheap date because it's rare that I have more than one cocktail or craft beer. My tolerance for alcohol is laughably low. I'm a small person, and even after one sip, I start feeling it. 

This lady is the most hydrated person in the world. I drink water constantly. It is always at my side. I had to switch to decaf coffee shortly after I retired because it started making me jittery, and I didn't need the caffeine to keep me going through the day anymore. Now I drink coffee because I love it.

Last night I was chilly and exhausted after a day spent with Theo (so worth it!). I warmed up a huge cup of cider with a cinnamon stick, a clove, and a shot of Canadian Maple liqueur. I put myself under a blanket, put my heating pad on high, and luxuriated in front of Netflix with Piper snoring on my lap and the toddy cozying me up from the inside. Highly recommend.

What are your go-to drinks these days? Have you had to give any up? Do you belch like a teen boy in a contest?

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Stripping Down: Another Life List

 

About a hundred years ago, my son Jared and I had a blog together called Stuff On Our List. We wrote list posts about all kinds of stuff and then offered a few comments about some of the items on the lists. For November I've decided to use that format for my posts here. Let's get into today's list of

Things I'm Not Wearing Anymore

1. Makeup

2. Jewelry

3. Wristwatch

4. Wedding ring

5. Bra

6. Fussy Shoes

7. Glasses with those nose pad thingies

Let me be clear:  I have not Given Up. I don't drag around the house in sweatpants and slippers looking slovenly and pathetic. These are all things I stopped wearing well before my recent diagnosis. I still look Very Nice and Presentable. At any given moment, I could answer the door and be perfectly fine if it were, say, a handsome dignitary or sophisticated billionaire offering me a generous check. I do still wear mascara, geeze.

Many of you might be Nitpicking and say, "Nance. Wristwatches and Wedding Rings are Jewelry. You are redundant." To you I would say Perhaps, but I think of Jewelry as things such as earrings (I donated all my earrings and let my three earlobe holes close); bracelets (I have a huge collection of sterling silver ones); and necklaces (I have lots of sterling silver chains, too--necklaces began to trigger migraines). I stopped wearing my wedding ring when my weight kept going down, down, down, and it fell off. I also had to have it cut off once when I injured my hand, and that was awful. 

Years ago, I wore wonderful high heels to work every day. My students were astonished that I didn't own any sneakers. How devastated they'd be to know that I wear sneaker-type shoes every day now--soft, rubber-soled slip-in shoes that are comfortable but still attractive, like these. Or black Mary Janes that are knockoffs of these. Of course, I have many others because some habits die hard. I'm especially fond of these. And I have them in white, too.

Have you given up on Wearing Some Things, too? Why? Do you think I'm giving up too easily? Chat me up in Comments.

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Oldies But Goodies: My Past In Concerts

 

My younger sister often goes to concerts. She and her husband drive to nearby states to see their favourite bands and she sends me video clips. I haven't been to a concert in over a decade, and that one was in a private box at The House of Blues in Cleveland. I was the guest of a big shot on the board who is a former student and was also my financial adviser at the time. It was the perfect situation for me because I didn't have to worry about people standing up in front of me, people dancing around next to me, or people holding up their arms or their phones in front of my face. 

I've wisely stopped going to concerts because I know that they are simply not the place for me. I'm not going to pay big bucks to listen to thousands of people sing along and annoy me in other ways. I'd rather stay home and listen to music in comfort.

In my youth, however, I did go to concerts, and thankfully, I didn't have to pay exorbitant prices. At the risk of all of you furrowing your brows and repeatedly asking Who?, here is at least a partial list--in no particular order--of

Concerts I Have Attended

1. Eric Carmen

2. Seals & Crofts

3. James Taylor

4. Harry Chapin

5. Genesis

6. Peter Frampton

7. The Cars and Wang Chung

8. Phil Collins

9. Rod Stewart

10. Rod Stewart and Stevie Nicks

11. Stray Cats

12. Michael Crawford

13. Trans Siberian Orchestra

14. Aretha Franklin

15. B.B. King

16. Neil Diamond

It's entirely possible that there are more and I can't remember. 

Seals & Crofts was my very first concert. My best friend and I were huge fans, and her parents took us to see them at the Ohio State Fair. I was in probably 8th grade, and we were both so excited. Eric Carmen was my second concert. He was a Cleveland boy, frontman for the group the Raspberries. He went solo and had the big hit All By Myself. He played at a local high school's theater, and my older sister and I went. I was 16 at the time. You aren't the only one wondering why these acts were playing at such relatively obscure venues.

There are a few of these on the list that I saw more than once, like Genesis and Rod Stewart and Phil Collins. A few were concerts that weren't chosen by me, like B.B. King, Neil Diamond, and Stray Cats, but I went and had a great time. The Aretha Franklin concert happened after a Cleveland (then) Indians baseball game. Aretha arrived in a big Cadillac that drove right onto the field. She had a huge entourage, and I have no idea what all those people were doing because they sure didn't sing with her. 

There are some concerts I would have loved to have seen:  Elton John, Queen, Tina Turner, Carly Simon, and Earth, Wind and Fire, among others. Heartbreakingly, I had plans to see Elton John, but that was the year I got very sick with mono and strep. He played Cleveland without me--an Official Elton John Fan Club member!

My older sister actually saw The Beatles in concert in Cleveland. Can you even imagine?

What are some of the concerts you've seen? Do you even know who these acts are?

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It's Ketchup Time Again--A Tyrant Cat, EB/ME, And My Brain Finds Another Book Mistake

 Let me just start right in by saying that I am immensely thankful for all of you that manage to write so often over at your spots. You are Miracles and Superheroes, and you make my morning coffee even more pleasant. Sometimes, I have to peer over a giant orange tabby head to see you, but it is always well worth it.

Speaking of giant orange tabby cats, I think Piper's behaviour was kept in check by Marlowe, or she was a sort of calming influence because since she has been gone, he has really become a loudmouth and a tyrant. I'm not used to being bossed around by anybody, let alone a cat, but it would seem that I am that cat's bitch. And I'm beyond sorry that I ever, ever put ice in his water the first time. Is there anyone else whose cat demands his beverage On The Rocks? 

On the rocks. Sigh. Let's get this onerous part out of the way. After more than 30 different blood tests, an MRI, two EMGs, and a few doctor's appointments, I've been diagnosed with Epstein-Barr and Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (EB/ME). ME used to be called chronic fatigue, a term that you're probably more familiar with. The way it was explained to me is that the E-B likely came from my severe bout of mononucleosis when I was 17. The virus lies dormant forever, like chicken pox. It can resurface anytime and cause E-B in some people the way the chicken pox virus causes shingles. My E-B is severe and accompanied by unusual stress, leading to ME. 

I can't go into much detail about the unusual stress, but I'll just say this:  in late August and half of September, we helped Sam look for, find, and buy a house. For him and Zydrunas. In all of October, we have helped him clean, refurbish, and furnish the house, move into it, and provide whatever support we could throughout. Jared and his family have been monumental support as well. All this had to be because someone's social media wasn't as fun as it used to be. 

In November I'm going to try to post every single day and ignore all that stupid, unfair bullshit about my health situation and everything. I have to live it, but I don't have to talk about it ad nauseum here in my blog. I always appreciate your kind comments and any advice or support; I'm just not going to make it a topic here. I trust that you'll be grateful.

Before I go, I want you to check out this passage from Meet Me in Another Life by Catriona Silvey. I read this a while ago and greatly enjoyed it, even though its genre is not usually one I enjoy. Julie reviewed it and I was immediately drawn in. Anyway, I was reading intensely when I was jolted by this passage:

Maybe you're not a knitter or a crocheter, so this went right by you. When you knit, you use two needles. But when you crochet, you use one, and those who crochet almost universally call them hooks, not needles. Did this interfere with my enjoyment of the book? No, it did not. Do I wish that my brain didn't constantly notice these things? Yes, I do. Sigh.

Right now, I'm only reading our CBBC book, The Joy Luck Club, even though I have several books in my TBR pile. And let's not even talk about my stack of The New Yorker magazines. As I said, I'm looking to November for some fresh, renewed time. Maybe that will be more reading time. Maybe that will be less rain and possible short walk time. And for sure I'm going to try for more blogpost time.

Thanks for showing up, both at your spot and here in Comments. You make my days.

THE Emotional Support STD Nitpicky Book Chat You've Been Waiting For

 It's a good thing we're not meeting for coffee because we'd be sitting for hours and hours, and you might get all jacked up on caffeine, whereas I--a decaf drinker--would probably be in and out of the bathroom a lot after having switched to Just Ice Water after my second cup.

Anyway.

I have a lot to talk about in no particular order, so let's get started.

You'll Be Glad To Know That I Do Not Have Syphilis.

So, I went to my superhero neurologist to try and figure out what the heck is going on. He ordered two dozen blood tests after a thorough exam. As the results came in--and some are still coming in--I was shocked to find out just how thorough Dr. B was being. He had my blood tested for all the hepatitises (hepatitisi?), various levels of vitamins and minerals and metals, and of all things, syphilis. I cannot wait to go back and see him next week for my EMG and to ask him Just What Kind Of Girl He Thinks I Am. So far, everything has been negative or within mostly normal levels. The initial diagnosis is Peripheral Neuropathy, but he is not sure of the underlying cause for it. I'm also getting a thoracic MRI to look at my spinal cord whenever the insurance gods/company says I'm allowed. In the meantime all I can do is take one day at a time. I cannot build strength or stamina; the condition does not allow for that. I miss my walks and my life. Honestly, I'm scared.

Pretend Kermit The Frog Is A Picky English Teacher/Editor And Sing! It's Not That Easy Being Me.

The book Orbital is beautiful and breathtaking on every page. As I read it, I felt transported and awed. The cadence of the book is somehow sweeping, yet measured. The language is poetic and majestic without being overwritten. I cannot tell you how many times I had to put the book in my lap and look up from it just to savor a moment of language.

Until I read this:

It's really something, this typhoon, Pietro says when he comes to join her. They watch it hone in on the Philippines and Taiwan and the coast of Vietnam. Its spiral flings clouds for hundreds of miles around a hole-punched siphoning eye. (p84)

My own eye felt hole-punched. With a big red-hot stabby thing. How could she? How could Samantha Harvey make this mistake? How did it get past editors? UGH.

Hone--to sharpen a blade or refine a skill

Home--to focus on a target or goal; to move or aim toward a destination with accuracy

This irritates me so mightily. It's right up there with the misuse of palette/palate/pallet (they're all different things, people!), and...well, to be honest, pretty much everything. 

Still, 99.999% of Orbital is wonderful. Consider this extract from a paragraph:

Our lives here are inexpressibly trivial and momentous at once. Both repetitive and unprecedented. We matter greatly and not at all....death is so close. Life is everywhere, everywhere.

I Can't Swim, But My School Wasn't A Boat

Speaking of books, I also finished The Wager, a terrific nonfiction book about a British shipwreck and mutiny in the 18th century. Engie reviewed it some time ago, and I was intrigued. I also discovered it was written by the same author who wrote The Lost City of Z, one of my favourite nonfiction books, so I knew it would be engagingly written. And it was. I have no quibble at all with the book, but there were several things that just astonished me. First of all, many, many of the career seamen on the ship DID NOT KNOW HOW TO SWIM. Apparently, this was not unusual among seafarers. How in the hell do men decide to join the navy or be a mariner, knowing they could be months or years on a boat that could be swamped by waves, fully cognizant that they could become shipwrecked or lost, and still say, "No problem. Swimming is not a skill I'll need when out on the seas with no land in sight"? 

I think you need to read this book to marvel at all the other incredibly ridiculous decisions these men made in the name of service to the crown, personal honour, and loyalty to their commander at the expense of their own personal safety and survival. I wanted to smack them so, so many times. And tell them to GET REAL FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE.

Walmart Needs To Make Up Its Mind About Aquatic Animals And Safety.

On a slightly related watery note, if you've been a longtime reader, you know that if there is an animal story in the news, I'm all over it; that is my vow to you. Credit for this one goes to Rick, who knew I'd be charmed by the headline. I think you will be, too:

EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ALLIGATOR NO LONGER WELCOME IN PENNSYLVANIA WALMART

I want to thank David K. Li, the reporter on this important story, who provides us not only with this fantastic headline, but the story and video that I want all of you to go read and watch right now. In case you are hesitating, the alligator--leashed--sits in the shopping cart whilst wearing a dress and, in another scene, luxuriates contentedly in a fur collared sweater in her owner's arms. This alligator is about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit, yet Walmart has banned it. “The safety of our customers and associates is our highest priority,” Walmart said. “We welcome service animals in our stores, but it is unacceptable to expose members of the public to potential danger.”

Oh, really, Walmart? This is pretty ironic, coming from the place that sold radioactive shrimp to thirteen states. And if you bought a bag of that irradiated shrimp, don't return it for a refund, say officials. Simply throw it away! Share that radioactivity with the world as it rots in a landfill. Did you eat it? Are you having ill effects? Contact your medical provider. Will Walmart pick up the tab? Oh ha ha it is to laugh.

Maybe seek some solace from your emotional support alligator. Just don't take it shopping with you when you go get your prescription from the Walmart pharmacy.

And While I'm Feeling Snarky...

I don't get how college football is a bigass deal. Maybe it isn't in your state, but I'm in Ohio, and a lot of people here are huge Ohio State fans, and they are obnoxious about it. Here's what I don't understand:  how can you be such a big fan of a college you never even went to? I got my undergrad degree from Bowling Green State University, and I could not possibly care less how their football team does. Ever. Also? Why does Ohio State get all precious and persnickety and call themselves The Ohio State University? Why the The? It's stupid. And pretentious. I automatically refer to all the colleges I went to as The now:  The Lorain County Community College; The Bowling Green State University; The Ashland College (now University). I also took some grad classes at The College of Mount St. Joseph, but they legitimately have a The in their name. I urge all of you to add a The to wherever you went to school just to diminish Ohio State's use of it for prestige and to call attention to how positively ridiculous it is.

Okay! That was a lot. Tell me the The names of your schools and All Kinds Of Other Things in Comments.

image credits:

freepik.com

invaluable.com

letsloop.com

superstock.com

Goodbye, August. You Can Show Yourself Out

 

Goodbye, August. Be on your way and don't give September any ideas, unless it's for the beautiful blue skies, voluptuous clouds, and refreshing temperatures you've left as parting gifts. Other than that, take your leave and all your lousy vibes with you.

I've been struggling with a mystery condition for a while now. After any exertion my muscles suddenly become very weak. I start losing my balance; my feet will scuff the ground when I walk, causing me to trip, then fall. Sometimes, I can sense it happening; other times, I have no warning at all. My arms have no strength, and my hands shake at times with tremors. I cannot carry anything of much heft, and there are times I can't steadily put a drink to my lips. As you can no doubt guess, this has put an end to my daily walks; I haven't been able to take one for a month. 

I miss them more than you could ever imagine. And I am so very tired so much of the time.

This is eerily reminiscent of my Vitamin D deficiency in 2017, except that I've been supplementing D religiously since then. Obviously, these symptoms prompted a visit to my primary care physician, who ordered some labs and a visit with my neurologist. Her initial diagnosis is that my very high dose of Topamax for migraine prevention, that I've been on for twenty years, might now be just too high for my tolerance at my age. "I worry that we might be doing this to you, not a disease process," she said. My dosage of Topamax is extremely high--higher than what is usually recommended--in order to control my migraines. My neurologist--actually his NP--ordered more labs and stepped down my Topamax as a possible solution. Another possible diagnosis is myasthenia gravis; unfortunately, there is no definitive test for it, only markers to look for or rule it out in a big process of elimination. But my initial round of labs looked pretty good, at least from what I saw and could figure out on my own.

And, as is always the case it seems, I don't go back for a follow-up with my actual neurologist until mid-September after new labs are done next week. Sigh.

As so many of you know, Patience is Not My Gift. I'm angry and annoyed that I'm so limited. And that now there is so much more burden placed on Rick. Just running the vacuum can put me out of commission for an hour or more. He escorts me on short little walks in case I tire and begin to show signs of scuffing. Spending part of a day with Theo--holding him, playing on the floor, being active with him, a Very Busy toddler--makes me incredibly tired and sore, but that will always, always be worth it. 

In other news, August marks yet another year for Dept. of Nance. I've been writing here for twenty years now! It's astonishing, but even more astonishing is the number of you who have been here for so many of those anniversaries. Thank you, and a special Thank You to my Faithful Commenters, who engage in and encourage such a lively, witty, and intelligent discussion here. You're the best on the Internet, no doubt about it.

I'll write a more celebratory post soon, but I wanted to share this news with you, my friends and virtual support group. Thank you for being here, and thank you for writing over at your places. It's a joy to start my day with you every single morning.

Shaking A Few Things Loose

This week I feel a Big Purge coming on. As I was packing to go to the lake for the weekend, I noticed that there were several things in my closet that I hadn't worn all summer; in fact, I couldn't remember the last time I had worn them. Clearly, it's time for them to go. That made me think about the rolled-up rug in the office closet and the shoes in there that haven't been worn lately either. Time to box and bag things up and call my favourite charity, Vietnam Vets of America, and get them out here for a pickup. (As usual, I'll try to inspire Rick to--cue dread and doom music--go through his things as well, but I don't expect that to amount to anything.)

I'm also feeling the need to Purge a few Thought Nerfuls and Cerebral Clutterbits taking up space in my head, so I'm going to give it a rattle and see what shakes loose.

BOOBS.  As in, mine are because I am Rebelling and refusing to wear a bra for the rest of the summer as of about two weeks ago. Now, to be fair, I am not Copiously Endowed, and because I am an Older Lady, mine are not, shall we say, prone to Being Bouncy. I have spent too much money on trying to find a bra that is even remotely comfortable, and yes, I was even professionally fitted. If I am wearing something sheer, I wear a cami; if I am not, then Shirt Only it is. Chances are extremely good that I continue this for all three remaining seasons and for the rest of my life, especially since I Just Don't Care. 

BOOKS.  I finished--with some disappointment--Parallel Lines by Edward St. Aubyn. Listen, the writing is excellent. I remain entranced and entertained by the character Sebastian, who features in the opening chapter and made me want to read this book. BUT. There were too many characters cluttering up the landscape and they weren't all different enough to make me notice. As a matter of fact, at one point I just sort of skipped lots paragraphs concerning a couple of characters AND IT MADE ZERO DIFFERENCE TO THE PLOT. And the ending made me irritated in that I put up with SO MUCH just to get to...this? Maybe your reading will be vastly different and I truly hope so. Maybe I am just a Huge Pain In The Ass about modern fiction.

However.

I am now reading Orbital by Samantha Harvey. First of all, thank you Julie for reviewing this book over at your place and for providing an excerpt. This book. This book is so achingly beautiful that when I read it, there are times that I simply have to put it down and breathe and recover myself. This morning I took it out on the patio with my coffee; the sound of my little pond waterfall was in the background, and now and then a bird would sing. As I read I would almost be overcome. What an incredible piece of literature. I feel privileged to read it.

PLANTS.  My basil is a green machine. I've made so, so many jars of pesto--in total a little over two quarts so far. I put it in little jars so that it stays fresher longer. Somebunny has gotten into my parsley despite my menacing fake owl and mowed down almost an entire plant. One suspect lounges quite nonchalantly under my swing in the evenings. My catnip got a severe case of powdery mildew, so I cut it all back and took it outside. Neither Piper nor Marlowe care/d a whit about catnip in their old age (I found out), so I was basically growing catnip to give away to the grandcats (Baker and George) anyway. (Side Note:  Jared and Jordan often threaten George that "Nana will come and speak sternly to you" when he misbehaves because they heard me threaten him with that ONE TIME.)

PLEASURES.  It's important to make note of Small Things That Make Us Happy, and here are mine in no particular order:  

1. Coffee

2. The family group chat

3. My porch and patio

4. My little pond and waterfall

5. Blackberries

6. The icemaker

7. Seeing Theo's crib in the office

8. Watching the two little boys across the street and remembering when Jared and Sam were that age

9. My volunteer tomato plant 

10. Piper snoring

I absolutely cannot wait to read what you have to say in Comments about Boobs, Books, Plants, or your life's little Pleasures.

Marlowe

 

Fifteen years ago I adopted these two kittens from our local Friendship Animal Protective League. They were the last two left from a litter of six front porch cats that had been surrendered to the shelter. I couldn't believe that these two were left; I thought they were adorable. I always wanted an orange cat and a grey cat, and Rick, who was under the assumption that we were there to get only one cat, thought he was being my hero when he said, "Don't try to decide. Just get them both."

Which was my plan all along.

Their shelter names were Dusty and Nike. If you look closely at the grey one, you can see the swoosh on her forehead. I renamed them Piper and Marlowe after looking into their eyes and allowing their names to come to me. (I think that's the best way to name all pets.)

I'm telling you this Origin Story because on Monday we had to say goodbye to Marlowe. Her decline was sudden and precipitous. She wasn't in any pain, but she stopped eating and was lethargic and confused. Uncharacteristically, her brother began staying close to her, holding her as she slept. When I took her to the vet, she was bloated, and the doctor said she had severe anemia and lymphoma. Treatment was available, but it would be very taxing and a positive outcome was a longshot. I made the decision to let her go, and it was the right one.

Here she is on the back of my chair. That's my head, bottom left. We match!

Marlowe was a huge cat, first of all. I'm pretty sure there was some Maine Coon in there. She had big, tufty feet and a glorious fluffy tail. One of her vets said she and Piper were the tallest cats she had ever seen. She hated to be brushed, which was unfortunate, because she was prone to mats. Grooming her was my part-time job because she made it a chore.

All of our leather chair backs sag because they were her cat beds.

She was almost like having a dog. She would play fetch with one particular toy, a blue plastic ring. I also taught her several tricks that she'd perform for treats. She would spin around, stand up on her hind legs, give paw, and sit. Piper didn't have to do anything for his treats because, well, Orange Cat. She was also very good about responding to commands such as Come, In, Up, and Down. She really was a very obedient girl. And if the squirrels were mobbing the peanut feeder on the porch and keeping my blue jays away, I could run her out there to scare them away. She was the best.

Monday was a beautiful sunny day. At the vet, Marlowe was calm and quiet in my arms, and I held her by the window so that we could look outside at the trees. I reminded her of all the time she spent out on the front porch with Rick and me and Piper enjoying the breeze and looking out at the neighbourhood and all the lunchtimes she shared with Sam. I told her what a good girl she was and how we loved her. As she slipped away, I felt relieved that she wasn't confused and lost anymore.

 

This is Piper with his Emotional Support Puppy. He loves it. I bought it for him at my funny grocery store for $3.99. (It's actually a dog toy. I had gotten one for Zydrunas because A) of course I did, and B) I think it looks like Zydrunas.) I didn't know how Piper would react to Marlowe being gone, and since he was snuggling her so much near the end, I thought he might like something to cuddle up to. 

So far, Piper has been doing okay. He vocalizes more, he wants me to sit with him a bit while he eats, but otherwise, he is himself. Rick misses Marlowe quite a bit. She liked to sit with him in the recliner. But only if he had jeans on. If he was wearing his pajamas or sweats, it was a no-go. And if he crossed his legs, she let him hear about it. 

I miss her, but I am still overcome with the feeling of gratitude that she is no longer ill and confused. Her condition near the end was heartbreaking for me. I was so at a loss. It was devastating. Now, it's over. I know I gave her a very good life, and she rewarded me many times over. 

When we adopt our pets, they are ours for better or worse, and we love and care for them in sickness and in health...'til death do us part. It's a sacred yet unspoken vow, and they depend upon us entirely. I'm glad I did not fail Marlowe. 

The July Report: Strap In And Let's Do This

this is from YouTube

 July has been all over the place so far. This post will probably reflect that. Hang on tight because I have no real idea what this may turn into. Let's go.

1. Cervical Facet Arthropathy/Syndrome and Cervical Epidural Steroid Injection:  This all has nothing to do with lady parts; rather, it's all about a pain in the neck. It seems that my most recent falls have exacerbated the arthritis in my neck and exposed a nerve. I've been in pain and physically limited for months and months, and it finally got bad enough that I was referred to a pain specialist. Long story short, we tried medicine, and on Monday a cortisone shot into my neck/spine. If that doesn't hold, next is a nerve ablation. After that, it's surgery to insert pins/rods. I'm Trying Very Hard to avoid that last thing, which is huge and scary and, to me, the very last resort. So far, I'm really pleased with the injection. Fingers crossed that it gives me relief for a long time.

2. Herb Garden Stuff:  I've already made a batch of pesto from my basil and parsley and dried some oregano. My oregano is from a plant I put in more than 10 years ago. I've had to seed dill twice now because of this horrendous heat. I have a volunteer tomato plant somehow in there (I haven't planted tomatoes there for decades), and my jalapenos from last year seeded themselves smack dab in the middle of my rosemary. Today I pulled 14 jalapeno plants and put them in huge pots along the drive. I'll be making pesto again this week, provoking much joy from Jared and Sam.

3. Social Commentary Or Just Laziness? You Decide:  Sometimes on my walk I am confronted with sights that cause me to ruminate for a block or two. As a former English/Literature/Creative Writing teacher and student, I cannot help but see Deeper Meanings in most things. Plus, it's a nice break from reacting with Just Plain Annoyance. Consider these two related things that caught my eye today:

Is this a commentary on the way Organized Sports have a chokehold on our kids, forcing them into a world of pressure and competition far too early? Is it trying to tell us that kids should be spending more time outdoors in free play, discovering the wonders of Nature? Is it saying that too much money is spent on professional sports--salaries, arenas, merchandise, and the like--perhaps to the detriment of our natural environment? That we've lost our way as to what's Truly Important? I like to give my neighbours lofty, artsy, and highfalutin intentions rather than admit they're just indifferent about their yards. It allows me to maintain my Zen whilst I walk.

4. Weekends At The Lake:  Theo was ill over Independence Day with new teeth and a virus, so he couldn't join us, but Sam and Emily (aka Samily) and Zydrunas came for the day. We boated and lunched and hung out. Later that night, Rick and I watched three different fireworks displays from our front yard. We had a makeup weekend last weekend with everyone (minus Emily, who had to work, unfortunately), and it was wonderful. Theo is obsessed with Sam, who he calls Guncle. He drove the boat, talked a lot, danced, and got in the water. He had the time of his life, and we all marveled at how much having him around is like having Zydrunas around. Eerily similar, especially on the boat.

5. Books, Etc.:  I've read two books by Jay Winik about the Civil War. I know I've mentioned them in other Comment sections, so I won't talk about them here except to say that they are excellent and captivating. The writing is engaging and excellent. I grew up vacationing in Gettysburg, and I have a bit of an obsession with this period of history as well as President and Mary Lincoln, reading deeply in these areas. Sadly, I just lost my favourite aunt who lived in Gettysburg and who was a very gracious hostess to our family and to me separately. She was also an English teacher, as was her husband. I will miss her much.

I'm now reading--as a palate cleanser--Parallel Lines by Edward St. Aubyn. It is witty, British, acerbic, and smart. Say what you will about Evil Amazon (and there is plenty to), but they let me read the first chapter of books, and this one had me smiling in admiration, recognition (of how one thought leads to another and another), and amusement. I'm only about 45 pages in, and I absolutely love it. I can't wait to read more by this man. If I were sweeter, I'd type out some passages, but honestly, it's time to prep dinner, and I want to get this published. Go read the first few pages. It's so so good.

****

I think this catches us up. I'd like to say that I'll be better at posting more often, but I think we all know how that will turn out. Thank you to those who do post regularly. I wish I knew your secret. Certainly I have time! Perhaps I'll just say I'll Try.

Take A Load Off Your Brain: Visit My Grocery Store And Get A Music Lesson

 

Sometimes, you just need a Diversion--a Respite from all the strenuous gasping and concern and metaphorical hand-wringing brought to us by the agents of chaos that we, The Sane Ones, did NOT elect. I'm hoping this brief post provides a bit of that.

~*~My Grocery Store, Soon To Have Its Own Special On HBO:

These are actual photos taken by Me of actual signs in my funny grocery store's Closeouts Section. I hope it never, ever changes.

If you cannot see it, the sign says SEQUENCE DRESSES $2.99

You can see what a HOT DEAL these Fabric Lanters are. Or are they Fabric Lantens? 

Do you have five bucks lying around? You can score a set of Blue tooth Earbubs made by Sentry. Or maybe they're a Blue tooth Earbubs Sentry (although I'm not sure what that would be). Either way, a Hot Deal! And NEW!

Listen, I'm still wearing the cute denim sneakers I got there three years ago for $3.99. Their signs may be awful, but the Closeouts department has great stuff, usually Target merch.

~*~Mom Goes To Music School

 Last week, Maya wrote about talking music with her teen. Well, my two sons are way past being teens, but I had my own conversation over text with them about music last week, too. Rick and I were in the car, and Lose Yourself by Eminem came up on my playlist. (I love this song.) I got curious about its genre, so I texted Jared and Sam:

                                                   

*Fetter is Jared's nickname for Sam, after the hip hop artist Fetty Wap. Not sure how it came about.

Let me tell you, I listen to a LOT of hip hop on the boat when the boys come to the lake. A. LOT. Theo dances to all of it. And just a heads up, if you haven't already, don't watch the video to the song Knife Talk. It's...really disturbing in a crazy, avant garde sort of way. 

~*~

"These are the times that try men's souls," Thomas Paine wrote in 1776. "Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph." Resistance is not futile. What we say and what we do matters. Every act of Kindness is a defiance. Paine also reminds us that, "'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death." 

Resist.

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Night Rides

 When I was a little girl and the summertime nights were very hot, I sometimes slept downstairs in the living room. My bedroom, shared with both of my sisters, was a converted attic with sloping walls. It got very warm in the summer months and could get downright frosty in wintertime. A big box fan could help circulate the air, but on some hot, humid nights, nothing helped. On those nights, my mother would lay some quilts and a sheet on the living room floor, and I'd bed down there, usually with the front door open a bit and all the windows open, hoping for a breeze.

Every now and then, it would be so warm that my father would take his pillow out onto the front steps. He'd lie down with his feet on the second step, knees bent. I often took my pillow out, too, and lay next to him, loving the whole idea of being out at night, resting there, looking up into our maple tree, the leaves patterned against the dark sky with here and there a star winking, or the moon floating in a haze.

Even better were the times when my father would get out the bicycle for a nighttime ride. It didn't matter that I was in my pajamas. I'd run down to the curb, and he'd help me hop up sidesaddle onto the crossbar; off we'd go, making a cool breeze as he rode. We glided into the night air down the streets of his old neighbourhood, and he'd point out the houses of where he lived as a child, where aunts and uncles lived, where friends lived and what they did or what they cooked or said. He talked about what their yards used to look like, how they used to go fishing or the nicknames they had. Sometimes he'd lapse into a silence for awhile, just thinking. Then he'd point out a tree or shrub or flower to me and tell me what it was or how to take care of it. All the while the wind was cool and I felt not the least bit tired.

When we'd get home, I would almost fall getting off the bike because my leg would have fallen asleep from sitting on that crossbar for so long. I never stumbled in front of him, and I never told him, either. I never wanted those bike rides to end.

PSA--No More Posts Via Email

 

image from LinkedIn

This is simply a quick PSA for those of you who had been getting my posts via email through Mailchimp. That service has ended. Well, it's ended for me, anyway; they're done offering it for free. Since I only have 200+ subscribers and I'm not really a b2b entity, they're breaking up with me.

I'm not aware of any other service that offers a freebie plan, so I guess you'll just have to stop by here and check in once in a while. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience, especially since I don't publish on any sort of schedule. 

Updated:  I was finally able to reformat my layout and remove the signup for email delivery as well as my defunct Feedburner subscription. Everything should be shipshape now. (Except for the part where you still can't get me via email anymore like before.)

I'll be back soon. 

Porch Martinis and Peanut M & Ms: A Public Service Announcement

In a completely astonishing turn of events, I have become 66 years old. It's done no good to refuse it; the reality of it stubbornly exists, and I just have to live with it. There are times when I completely forget about how old I am, but then there are days like yesterday, when I am putting in my herb garden and attempting to help Rick get the little pond and waterfall cleaned up and running again, and weeding and yardworking, and my body reminds me that it's NOT HAVING IT AND HEY! REMEMBER YOUR ARTHRITIS ALL OVER THE PLACE?

This morning was a nightmare.

Can I buy Aleve by the drum?

Anyway.

Not too long ago on our way home from working at the lakehouse, I mentioned that I was in the mood for a martini. I didn't really want to go someplace to get one, but it sounded good. Of course, we had nothing at all at home to make one. That's when my hero answered the call:  we stopped at a liquor store on the way home and Rick got everything we needed to make not only martinis, but cosmopolitans, too. And The Porch Martini was born. 

I cannot recommend this highly enough. Rick makes lovely dirty martinis or cosmopolitans (aka pink martinis), and we sit on the front porch relaxing, chatting, and watching the world go by. Sometimes we let the cats out and let them enjoy the porch as well. It's an unwritten rule that we cannot discuss stressful things--that would disrupt The Porch Martini Vibe. It's the ultimate relaxation for me. We each have two martinis and sometimes some snacks. I've wholeheartedly embraced The Porch Martini. (And come on--everyone looks and feels so cool even just holding those glasses.)

But even as I've embraced The Porch Martini, I've had to break up with (for now!) Peanut M & Ms. Again. This gives me no end of grief, for as you know, not only do I consider them The World's Most Perfect Food, it proves that I did NOT learn my lesson from 2023. Conveniently, however, this time I can blame Rick for my transgression. Yes, he did thoughtfully ask if I wanted anything from the kitchen. True, I did say, "I do, but I don't know what," and he brought me just the right snack, said Peanut M & Ms. He did, however, just plop a big sack of them (thoughtfully given to me on my birthday by Jordan, my daughter-in-law) on the table next to me rather than give me a little portion. After two martinis, I just kept popping them into my mouth whilst watching Netflix, and pretty soon, (like the Cheetos and Lay's Original Potato Chips before them) they turned on me. Now, I've had to ask Rick to hide them while I see other snacks, like red grapes and the pretzels that look like little checkerboards.

You know, I've just read this over, and I am a bit concerned as to what sort of example I am setting for those of you who are younger. People who buy liquor are heroes! Booze it up on your porch! 

Yet, I am advocating for Snacking In Moderation. And Dealing With Your Stress. And Physical Activity In Your Advanced Years.

Really, this post is a Public Service, if you think about it.

You're welcome. 

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Epiphany Wednesday

 

I may have to reconsider Spring as my favourite season after this March and April unless NEO can get its weather under control. (80 degrees one day; 50 and rain the next! How about frost overnight?) It's been one shitful migraine after another, and I lost so many days of walking and Being A Person that I cannot even stand to think about it. A steroid pack finally gave me some relief after one particular migraine episode held me prisoner for 5 full days. 

And so on.

Anyway.

As I kept telling Rick--and myself--"Bet I don't die from it." And here we are.

On Wednesday I was feeling terrific. Finally able to go out for walks again, I was loving the flowering trees everywhere, magnolia, crabapple, redbud, cherry and weeping cherry, pear, and apple. Lilacs have started to bloom, and their scent was everywhere, along with hyacinths. Daffodils and bright red and yellow tulips (the only ones safe from squirrels) are flourishing. 

I had a doctor's appointment where I was pronounced Perfect. I love my doctor, a warm but brisk woman who is genuine and kind. She laughs with me and tells me that she loves talking with me; that I'm always so real. I left there feeling buoyant and grateful.

On the way home, exactly at the place where Rick had his accident, a car ran the stop sign and pulled out in front of me. I jammed on the brakes and thudded to a stop not 3 feet from its passenger side with no time to look in my rearview mirror to see if anyone was behind me. It continued blithely on its way. 

Fortunately, no one was behind me. I merely continued driving down the road behind the person who almost caused me to hit him. We went on that way for about a half mile until that car turned off and I went home. Rick met me on the patio, and I sat down on a chair beside him, suddenly overcome with what had happened.

I told him about the near miss. I told him that right then, what I wanted to do was to go get freshened up and then head over to the neighborhood brewery to get a drink and try to relax. "I was so happy. I got such a good report from the doctor, too. And...it's just that I have so much to lose now," I said, thinking especially of Theo. "It wouldn't even have been my fault."

We soon headed up to the brew pub. A former student of mine, J, is the manager, and we've gotten to know everyone there. I settled in, chatting and sipping, and soon a gentleman and his Chihuahua came in. He grabbed a seat next to us, plopped his dog in one, too, and barked an order for "whatever is six bucks" at the bartender. He then proceeded to complain to J about the high prices "just for one beer. It's ridiculous when you can get a six pack of Pabst or Bud Light for that price." He then turned to Rick and me. "You know what I mean? Don't you think?"

Rick and I both answered. We love supporting small businesses, and we're happy that this brewery moved in and want it to do well. We like the people. We mentioned those things along with the fact that we think C, who is the owner and brewer, is an artisan and makes terrific craft beers. All those things are good for the community/city.

He waved our comments away impatiently. "Oh, I know C. I've been coming here since it opened. But what the heck is he doing, charging so much? And what about cans? Don't you got anything in cans?"

J tried to explain that putting the beer in cans has gotten too expensive, then had to wait on someone else. Rick jumped in and explained that it required paying another company for labor and materials. I explained that because of tariffs, the cost of aluminum is especially prohibitive now, and that C offers refillable glass growlers as an alternative.

I'm sure you can guess what happened next. The buzzword Tariff was all he needed to hear. He automatically assumed all of us were felon rapist supporters, and made a complimentary comment regarding him. Then he said, "I don't know if you're in favor of him or not, but--"

"Not at all," I said. 

"No, we're not," Rick said.

What followed from there was what he wanted to call "just a discussion," but was mainly a sad parroting of ignorance and maga talking points, all of which I deftly, calmly, respectfully refuted, and he countered with blatantly false bullshit. At one point Rick touched my elbow, said "Nance" sotto voce, and tried to get me to stop. "You came here to relax, remember."

But I wasn't going to just stop because that's where we make our mistake. We back down and we shake our head and we just. stop. And to Them, that's a victory. They think they've won, and in a way, they have. So I just kept at him. And at him. I slapped back at all his bullshit and made him eat it. And not once did I lose my temper or my composure or my dignity. Actually, it was like being in the classroom. I had some teaching to do, and I was keeping it real. In about five minutes he took his six-dollar beer and wandered outside. 

One of the bartenders thanked me. Tending bar is a part-time gig for her. She's a federal worker for the VA; she works from home and is terrified she will be in the next round of cuts. My former student J hugged me and told me again that she loves me. The other bartender said, "I was listening to the whole thing. You were great and we hate that guy."

You'd think at this age, I wouldn't have too many epiphanies left, but Wednesday proved that wrong. I've spent 48 years of my life fighting migraines. Each time I get one, I feel a little bit like a failure, but I still fight it and fight it. I've spent longer than that fighting ignorance and injustices big and small. And I've fought in many arenas for the good of my family. And my students. On Wednesday something happened that could have taken it all away, something completely out of my control. That just makes me more determined to fight the battles I can impact that much harder.

*my image, a truck I saw at a train crossing

Wednesday: Weather, Work, And The Wonderful World Of Peanuts

Wednesday morning was cold, grey, and threatening rain. Our forecast looked bleak and foreboding:  more high winds and heavy rain showers were on the way, and we were under a flood watch. When Rick left early for the gym, I grabbed my grocery list and headed out for the store. If I didn't dawdle, I might beat the rain entirely.

Because there weren't too many items on my list, I was able to get through the store in pretty good time. I did have a brief and spirited discussion with a gentleman as I grabbed a bag of raw peanuts in the shell. He wondered why I liked raw peanuts, and I explained that I buy them not for myself, but for the blue jays. "But how do they eat them? Do they bust them out of the shell or eat the shell or what?" he asked, fascinated. I told him, and he was astonished. "I been buying birds the jars of shelled peanuts, and now you tell me I coulda been buying these bags? They's so much cheaper!" 

I didn't have the heart to tell him that, all along, he also could have been buying three-pound bags of shelled, raw peanuts in the bird food aisle up front. Who knows how he'd have taken the news?

Only two cashiers were available this early in the morning, and I didn't know either of them. That's been the rule more than the exception lately. And the employees in general have gotten older. The woman who rang me up was probably in her late 50s/early 60s.

She was pleasant and efficient. "Let me wrap up that meat in a plastic bag before you put it in your bag," she said. "I don't want it to leak, possibly. I used to work in food service, and that has stayed with me."

In the course of me bagging my groceries in my reusable bags, I learned that she:

*was a manager then regional manager for Taco Bell and took many food safety/food science courses

*left that to work in health care and then took care of her husband who had cancer and early-onset Alzheimer's

*worked in various retail jobs and in the service industry

"You've really had a varied career," I said, "and in each job you've had, you really relied on your basic skill set, being organized, efficient, and good at working with people."

"Well, except for working with teenagers when I was their manager," she said. "That about drove me crazy."

I smiled. "I was a high school teacher for 30 years," I said. "I loved it. I love teenagers."

"Oh wow," she said. "You win!"

******

I wasn't thinking about my victory on my way home--I wasn't even aware there had been a competition. Instead, I started thinking about all the jobs I've had and how, perhaps, they've had an impact on me. Here's a list of all the jobs I've had, paid and unpaid, since I started working, starting with babysitting.

1. Babysitting

2. Paper Route

3. Reading Tutor

4. Catechism Teacher

5. Bank Teller

6. Pet Department Clerk

7. Warehouse Worker

8. Substitute Teacher

9. Teacher

10. Freelance Writer/Editor

I do think the majority of these have influenced me, and I have lots of memories--good and bad--about all of them. Maybe I'll write about several of them in subsequent blog posts. Some of you may be curious about #4. (I still can't believe that one myself.)

Is your list of jobs a long one or short? Do you find yourself in conversation in the grocery store? Is there a job that you miss?

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Simple Pleasures And Surprise Joy

 March is here! I'm always glad to leave the -Uary months behind; they're so decidedly part of winter. At least with March, there's a wisp of hope for Spring. Even if there is sn*w, it's usually not long-lasting, and I can feel as if it's more a bug than a feature. (My father always called March's weather Women's Weather since it was so changeable. He was a terrible chauvinist at his core, but he could be surprisingly enlightened about so many things. In truth, he was more Marchlike than he would ever admit. If you're into that sort of thing, he was pretty much The Pisces Man.)

Anyway, we've had plenty of changeable weather here:  a couple of days ago we reached 77 degrees (F), had a stretch of 60's, and today there is bright sunshine, but we're struggling to see 40. Winds have been high and gusty and from all different directions. A couple of days early in the month we had a bit of frozen precipitation, but nothing that required any action or caused me to despair. I'm grateful.

I did have reason to despair recently, however. I ended up with a nasty cold that hung around for about ten days. So aggravating! I hadn't had a cold for years and years. This one really sapped my strength and stamina--so much coughing! Unfortunately, I wasn't able to take walks during some of the really nice weather, but there will be more. And Rick brought out two chairs onto the patio so that we could sit and enjoy the sun and warmth at least.

Last year, we had a landscaping company take out all the stone paths and landscape beds in the back yard and put a lawn back in. (The black walnut tree behind us just kept killing everything, and we spend so much time at the lake in the summer that the maintenance was prohibitive.) I was more than a little regretful about all the daffodils I had planted back there in the beds. They were all different shades of white and pink, and I really looked forward to them as true harbingers of Spring each year (especially after the damn squirrels ate every single one of my tulips the year after I planted them). I consoled myself with the idea that I had a few clutches of them out front, at least.

Well, when the temperatures stayed warm for several days, even overnight, I started seeing shoots of daffodils coming up through the backyard grass! Even where I had never planted any. Some are in the middle of the yard where the flagstone path was, and some are in front of the swing where there was an entire area of flagstone. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! I grabbed a bunch of plant markers from the garage and stuck them in the ground wherever I saw shoots. I HAVE FIFTEEN MARKERS IN MY BACK YARD WHERE THERE ARE DAFFODILS COMING UP! I am so excited. I feel like Surprise Daffodils are the best daffodils. I can't wait until they have buds and flower. 

It's always nice to have a little something to look forward to, isn't it? And isn't it so very pleasant to be surprised by something simple? I tell my husband often how Very Lucky He Is to have a partner whose Joys are so easily procured and provoked. He doesn't need to shop at Tiffany or Coach or places like that. He can bring me home birdseed, a water lily for our little backyard pond, or some raspberries. Or some really good ice cream. 

I'm really looking forward to those daffodils and getting the pond and waterfall up and running. Maybe we'll put a few fish in it this year for Theo to feed. Surprise fish! That should be fun.