i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
This is the first morning in over 13 years I’ve gotten up and haven’t then heard the sound of little paws coming out to find me.
Weston was my shadow. My boy. He wanted to be where I was, most all the time. Following me downstairs when I went to fold the clothes from the dryer, outside if I went to look at the blooms in the yard or just to hang out on our deck, into the kitchen or the dining room, following me into the living room with hopeful eyes that I would sit in our chair and he could join me, settling himself against one of my legs. That guy even followed me into the bathroom where I was supposed to pet him until I was done and would then say OK which was his signal to move along.
He loved love, more than anything. He loved pets. He was insistent about them. Pawing or nosing your hand to let you know it should be on him, and no where else.
Though don’t get me wrong. He was cantankerous. We’ve all been bitten by Weston. K and I more than once. He didn’t like certain things… to be picked up like a normal dog around the middle, to have things taken from him that he’d procured somehow, to have someone reach at him if he was in places he considered his den at the time, or just to try and help him when he didn’t want to be helped. He was independent, to a fault, but that was his way. And he would let you know it.
He was our little Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The most loving dog you’d ever meet who wanted nothing more than loves from you and to give kisses right back and the snarky cantankerous boy who would have none of whatever he would have none of.
We loved him so.
Our little man was an amazing thief. He stole things all the time. We realized yesterday, as we picked up after ourselves, that we’d been thoroughly trained by him to not leave a paper towel or Kleenex anywhere he could get it. He would steal it immediately. He loved to rip up and eat those things. We’ve lost many pairs of glasses and Kleenex and post-it notes and paper towels to him over the years.
He even ate things he shouldn’t. Things that were dangerous for him. We were talking last night and laughing, amazed, at all the times he grabbed things and tried to eat them, or just swallowed them in a hurry so no one would try and take whatever it was from him. We called him the sword swallower because when we first brought him home, and he was so very tiny, we’d given him this bone we’d gotten for him. We were leaving him alone in the house for the first time, in his playpen, and we wanted him to have something good while we were gone. We weren’t gone long and when we got back we couldn’t find the bone in the playpen. We couldn’t find it anywhere. And what’s more, he had this weird look on his face. Sort of surprised and slightly distressed, though he wasn’t acting distressed. We took him out of the playpen and he ran off into the living room where he jumped up on his chair and ottoman. We walked out of the room, walked back in, and there was that bone, all 6-8 inches of it, harked back up, out of him onto the ottoman. Lordy. We knew we were in trouble with him from then on. And over the years we were proven right. He stole and tried to eat a rib bone, same result with the harking it up. When we were camping once he found a piece of sausage someone had wrapped around a stick and then put hooks on and used to fish. Don’t ask me what that was supposed to catch, but there it was, discarded on the side of the river, and who would find it? Weston. Of course he would. He got a hold of it and then carried it around. We kept him walking so he wouldn’t try to start eating it because we knew the hooks would be disastrous. We got back to the Jeep and took out our bite gloves (yes, we had heavy cowhide work gloves we carried that we called bite gloves for times just like this when we had to get something from him or do something to him we knew he wouldn’t like). K managed to snatch that thing from him. To this day I don’t even know how she did it. And there was that time, road tripping as we do, when we were walking the pups near this gas station (sometimes there just aren’t great spots to take them on the road) and he found a petrified hamburger. It was hard and because he thought we might try to take it from him he tried to swallow it. He started to choke. I thought, right then, Oh God, he’s going to choke to death. I was trying to figure out how to give him the Heimlich maneuver and low and behold he managed to get it down. One time we’d returned from Europe and we had a bag of these really good chocolates inside a zipped up backpack. In fact, they were in a bag inside the backpack, inside a closed closet. He managed to get into the closet (it was a slider), get the backpack out, open the zippered compartment, open the package of chocolate, and eat them all. We were horrified. We called the dog poison hotline and were told we had to get some hydrogen peroxide down him so he would throw up. So there we were in the bathroom, on the tile floor, me holding him and getting the crap scratched out of me for it, and K pouring peroxide down his throat. It worked, he threw most of it up. But man oh man, what an incident.
We had to be hyper vigilant with him. He did what he wanted and sometimes that was dangerous for him. He didn’t care. He was Weston, danger dog.
He was also a smoker. He loved to find cigarette butts on his walks. If he found one, he would eat it. So we had to be vigilant when we walked him, butts, unfortunately, are everywhere. Crazy dog. We would joke that it was time to take Weston our for his smoke break. Because as much as we tried to keep him away from them, we was sneaky and got them anyway.
He was a smart little guy. Too smart. Too cunning. A true mischief maker.
K used to take him to her office once in a while, long ago when she had one. There were like 100 proof machines and next to each one was a garbage can. He loved garbage cans. Or a better description, he loved to knock garbage cans over. He was always looking for whatever treasures he might find there. Her staff would laugh when they came back in and ask her if Weston had been there. They knew he had because every garbage can, every last one, would be tipped over. When we visited anyone, my Mom, K’s parents, we had to make sure we went in first, his advance team, to put all the garbage cans up out of his reach. We had to scan for candy, or wrappers that might be within reach, and move those things up high enough he couldn’t get to them.
Here at home he got into all sorts of mischief. You couldn’t leave your coffee cup sitting next to your chair for even a moment because the second you left the area he was there, drinking your coffee. He was a master thief, lying in wait, watching all the time, waiting for any opportunity. He pulled things off shelves in the kitchen. We had to organize with him in mind, and even when we did he still went for things. His reach, for being small in stature, was amazing. One time we came back into the living room and found he had managed to pull this old package of instant breakfast we had shoved to the back of the top shelf in the cart. He shouldn’t have been able to get that, but somehow, he did. We found him standing over the ripped up package with powder all over his muzzle. We re-arranged our shelves, again, for him after coming up from watching TV to find him in the living room with a bag of sugar he’d managed to somehow pull down off the shelf, drag to the living room, tear open, and have a snack. The most hilarious thing was the time we were downstairs watching TV in the evening, again, and he had disappeared, which was always a bad sign. Suddenly we heard a loud bang. We both ran up the stairs to find he’d gotten a box of cans of green beans off the bottom shelf, drug it into the living room, and had torn up most of an end of the box. I’m not sure how he thought he was getting into the cans, but you know, after everything he’d pulled off, I wouldn’t have put it past him. There is an endless list of things he stole and ate, or tried to eat. A classic was the time, when we still lived in Oregon, I’d set an egg salad sandwich on our pool table while I went into the kitchen for a moment, thinking that was a safe place out of reach for him. No. I came back and my sandwich was gone. He’d managed to jump up onto the sectional, get on the back of the sectional, and jump to the pool table to get to the sandwich. He liked to jump into chairs that were left out to get to tables. We felt like he could’ve been a circus performer in another life.
Every night he had the same routine. We would be getting ready for bed and after they went outside to do their business he would, as we brushed teeth and got some water and changed, go into K’s office and rummage through whatever pants she’d been wearing that day. He pulled them down off of wherever she’d put them and went through her pockets. If there was anything… Kleenex, cough drop, candy wrapper, he would get it.
A standard phrase yelled in our house for the last 13 years has been, “TREAT!”. It was our way of getting him inside if he was barking at a neighbor (he was friendly to them, but wanted them to pet him and if they didn’t, or until they did, he would bark at them) or a squirrel he’d run up a tree. Yelling “TREAT!” was also our way of getting something away from him he shouldn’t have. Again, we were trained, not him. We couldn’t just take anything from him because of his snarkiness so our option was to bribe him into letting whatever it was go. It worked, but really I think it was all just part of his plan. He would steal something he knew we didn’t want him to have, we would offer him a treat to give it up. Pretty smart. But then, he was a very very smart dog. It was a blessing and a curse, and also the reason for his name.
Weston. Our beautiful boy. He was named after his birthplace, Weston, Oregon. It’s in the Blue Mountains, and it’s lovely. As we were driving to pick him up we’d already picked out a name for him. We had a tag and everything. But when we picked him up and he looked at us with those deep brown eyes, eyes that looked into you, that felt like they were a thousand years old, we knew the name we’d picked wasn’t right. We felt like he looked studious, nerdy, deep thinking. K said, he sort of looks like he should be wearing little glasses and a blazer. Kind of like Harry Potter. We laughed, but it was true. So on the drive back the name change process began. I don’t know how it happened, or which one of us thought of it, but somehow in that conversation, as we were running over things, where was he born, intellectual people we could name him after, etc. we said the name of the town. We looked at each other and bam, that was it. Weston. Perfect somehow. Perfectly him.
You know, the funny thing about him, and about his snarkiness, is that we always warned groomers and the people at his vet office about his snarkiness. We always said, watch him, don’t try to pick him up around the middle, cradle him to pick him up, don’t try to take anything from him if he gets anything, etc. We did this every time. We didn’t want anyone to get nipped. But he never bit anyone at those places and in fact everyone always told us, when we picked him up, how wonderful he was. How loving. What a great dog he was.
And he was. He was a great dog. He was the best boy. Snarkiness, and stealing, and mischief, and all. Because with all of that came so much love from him. So much joy. He loved to go for walks and play ball and play with his toys and chew on his bully sticks and run on the beach. The beach was his favorite place. When we could let him off his lead he would run like the wind, chase balls, get sticks, dig holes. He ran and ran, he played, he chased birds, then he would trot over periodically to get a pet or two, giving you little gentle kisses to let you know he loved you as much as you loved him. Letting you know he was so grateful to be there with us, in whatever place we were.
He was our boy. Complicated and intense and a pain in the ass and so loving. So loving.
He had our hearts, and still does. He always will. Our beautiful boy. Our sword swallowing mischief maker. Our one of a kind, full of personality, wonderful, beautiful boy.
I’m a huge fan of Nina Simone. My favorite song? Feelin’ Good. I like it in all its iterations I guess. Most people probably have forgotten all about Nina’s version and skipped right to Michael Buble. That’s OK. I don’t think she would mind. Nor would she care about the Muse version. I like that one a lot. Who sings it isn’t nearly as important to me as the lyrics.
I started really loving this song when I was 45. I liked it just fine before that, but when I was 45 I came down with a little bout of Leukemia. Music has always been huge in my life, songs associated with people, places, events. Feelin’ Good got associated with my healing, my being alive. It was a new dawn, a new day, and I was, after months of treatment, feelin’ good.
Here I am, years later, still in love with this song. Still associating it with the thrill of being alive. Because, well, I am still thrilled to be alive.
K and I were sitting here talking the other day about how weird it was that it was going to be 2019. How it seemed impossible in some way, that it was nearly 2019. I don’t know why it seemed like such a big deal because, after all, it’d been 2018 for nearly a year, but somehow it did. Somehow time has taken a leap. The idea that 2019 was nearly here, and I’m still here, and though I’m older than I used to be, I’m not as old as I’m going to get. If you’d asked me in 1983 when I graduated from high school what I’d be doing in 2019 I wouldn’t have been able to even imagine it, being so far in the future and all. And now here we are, so far in the future and all. Weird. Not bad. Just weird.
Friends of ours recently asked us to attend a party. They asked everyone who was invited to bring a bottle of booze, an appetizer, and quote or song or piece of writing to be read aloud and shared. I think it was meant as a sort of send off to the year passing and a greeting of hope and inspiration heading into the new year. Cool idea. Sadly, we couldn’t go, but I was thinking about what I would’ve shared if we had.
There are a lot of quotes I could’ve shared. I’m a quote person. Just see the inspirations page of this blog for proof of that. The fact that I get nervous and shy at times might spur the use of a quote. I probably would share a quote like this… “The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ~ W.B. Yeats
I could’ve shared a poem. I’m a lover of all things poetic and have been reading and writing poetry since I was a wee sprout, sometime near 1983 I’d say. I was 17 then, and graduating from high school, so my poems were very broody. I might’ve shared a poem at the party if I happened upon or could think of one I thought might be inspirational. Maybe the E.E. Cummings “I thank you God” poem…
i thank You God for most this amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth day of life and love and wings and of the gay great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any-lifted from the no of all nothing-human merely being doubt unimaginable You? (now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
e e cummings
(in ‘complete poems 1904 – 1962’)
Or maybe something by Pablo Neruda, Charles Bukowski, or The Type, by Sarah Kay.
If I had my wits about me I might’ve thought of something profound or witty or inspirational to say all on my own. Possible, if I’d had my wits about me. Sometimes they are vacationing and leave me searching for the right words, the right feeling, the right way to say what I want to.
Weston is currently crying over K’s shoulder as she eats her morning oatmeal. It’s the first day of the new year. He likes oatmeal. Sometimes all that matters is the hope that you’ll get the last bits of oatmeal left in the bowl. That someone will remember you like them, and that getting them will make your day. That those bits are what will bring you joy right at this moment. And maybe the story of Weston and the oatmeal bowl is the only profound thing worth sharing. It’s the simple things in life that are worth everything. Finding moments of joy. Moments of happiness. Moments of peace. We don’t need a lot to make us happy and joyful. Bits of oatmeal left in the bottom of the bowl will do. So I’ll say this… go out there and find your bits, whatever they are for you. See them for what they are, for what they mean to you. Relish them.
K has finished eating and Weston is now licking the bowl. His crying has stopped and he’s blissfully enjoying this tiny moment of joy. I’d say, like Nina, he’s feelin’ good. A pretty great way to start 2019.
Today is our boy, Weston’s, 10th birthday. I can’t even begin to express what he means and has meant to our lives. He is cantankerous, mischievous, smart, fun, quirky, and very loving. He is our little Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. He can be very affectionate one minute and try to gnash at you the next if you look like you might want to take something from him. Never try and take something from him. He loves to play catch with a ball and can actually nose that ball back to you over and over so you are literally playing catch with him. It’s crazy and cool. We really should take a video of it. He loves going on walks, letting us know in the afternoon if he hasn’t had one yet that day by giving us the half bark. He loves bully sticks and cheese. He loves cuddle time in the morning, wanting to be spooned with his head on my pillow, and cuddle time at night when we watch TV, laying on me with his head on my chest. He barks to get veggies when we are cutting them up for dinner and whines to get just a little bit of oatmeal in the morning. It’s not his fault, we give him veggies and oatmeal. We spoil him. We should.
Our philosophy about our pups has always been that we chose them, and because we chose them we owe them. We owe them a good life, love, fun, walks, and our attention. They are pure creatures. Innocent. Dependent on us in so many ways. And because of this, we have an obligation to them. Every day. To take care of them the best way we can, to love them like they deserve to be loved, and to accept their little foibles and faults, because yes, they have them.
Weston is our little man. Our grumpy, moody, affectionate little dude. He is light and love and sometimes frustration, but he is ours, and we are his. I love him more than I can say and am grateful every day for his little furry presence in my life.
Today is our buddy’s 9th birthday. I can’t believe the little man is 9 already. He came to us when he was just 6 weeks old. He was very young, very feisty, curious, strong willed, and very loving. Not much about him has changed since then. He’s brought so much joy to us, so much laughter and love. He’s the best dog thief you’ve ever seen, a total rascal, tenacious, and can be out and out stubborn. As we like to say he is the Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde of dogs. So loving and affectionate one minute, guarding his bully, or a kleenex he stole, with ferocity the next.
I didn’t know I could love a dog this much. It slays me every day, the love I have for him. I think that love is only bested by the love he has for me.
Nine years. Wow. Happy birthday little man. Here’s to many more adventures together.
Today is our little mister’s 8th birthday. Currently he’s curled up in the chair in the corner of our living room sleeping. He’s as cute as he’s ever been. I love him so.
Our boy has brought so much joy, love, happiness, and adventure into our lives. He is very affectionate, mischievous, hellaciously smart, loving, loyal, protective, playful, and insistent. I say insistent because he pretty much demands attention when he wants it. Pet me, play with me, feed me, pet me, give me love, I love you, I love you, I love you, love me, pet me now. He has his annoying habits, of course, like stealing things. We have to be pretty vigilant about kleenex and food and items on our metro shelf he thinks he might want to eat. He steals from the shred bin in K’s office, off of tables, from inside backpacks he’s managed to unzip (an incident that led to a call to doggie poison control and a force feeding of hydrogen peroxide, which worked by the way). He’s ingenious, and that ingenuity can be frustrating, but it’s also admirable. He doesn’t give up. I think he does it sometimes just to see if he can. He’s tenacious.
Our little man can also be testy and nippy and down right semi-ferocious if the right opportunity presents itself. Like when he steals something really good then hunkers down, dens, to protect it. It’s not a time to reach in and try to get whatever it is from him. We’ve all been gnashed at and nipped, we’ve all been trained to know he means business. He can’t help it, he’s been this way since we brought him home all those years ago. We think it’s because we got him so young, and that he didn’t have as much training from his mama as he should have, which may or may not be the reason. It doesn’t really matter, it’s his way, his personality, and we know it. We’ve always said he’s Doctor Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. Most of the time he’s the most loving, affectionate, cuddly dog you’ve ever met. He’s happiest getting pets and giving kisses. He wants to be touched all the time. This can also be annoying, but how can you resist that face? We can’t. We love him. And I love that about him. When Mr. Hyde comes out, well… we know that guy too. The one you don’t want to challenge. When he has something he’s protecting, or he doesn’t want to be picked up in a certain way, it’s best to leave him be. He lets you know that. You always know where you stand with him, and what he wants. He’s a passionate guy.
He’s been with us all but the first six weeks of his eight years. During that time he’s traveled with us on many of our adventures: enjoying romps in the sand and sun; games of fetch in creeks and streams; walks in so many different places on so many different paths; travels in the car; sleeps in tents and trailers and hotel rooms; playing chuck-it in fields and parks; and playing ball inside of hotel rooms and the houses of family and friends. He’s an excellent travel companion, a great little traveler. We say this about he and Riley every time we hit the road.
What can I say, we love him. I love him. I can’t believe, and I say this all the time about him, about both of our pups actually, how much I do love him. Life is so much richer with him in our lives. So much more joyous. There’s so much more laughter, love, fun, and cuddling because of him. I am constantly amazed by how much I do love him. What’s great is that he loves me, he loves us, right back.
Happy birthday to our beautiful, wonderful, fascinating, little mister. Life with him is truly sweet.
I turned 49 a few days ago. No, I’m not really 50 something and just using 49 as my sticky-post age. I’m 49.
I’m not fazed. Not being fazed is a good thing.
I have never been a person who was affected by my age. I turned 16, 21, 25, 30, 40, etc. with no real worry or fear about getting older. Time is what it is. It marches, so do we. I feel like I’m becoming a better version of myself, and getting better all the time, as I’ve aged. Wisdom, lessening insecurities, a strong and getting stronger I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-what-anyone-thinks attitude, and a more and more relaxed way of looking at the world.
I feel like I’m better at looking outside of myself, outside of my inner dialogue, to the world beyond. I realize I’m a small drop in a very large bucket. And what’s more, when I fall back to being too much in my head, too much about me, I can snap out of it pretty quickly by reminding myself there’s more to life, so much more, than me. It’s my personal version of a mental slap upside my head. It’s a wisdom thing. Something I’ve gained with age. A certain perspective. I’m grateful for it.
I try not to take myself to seriously, also a wisdom with age thing. It’s the last vestige of big things I’m trying to work on. I think I just wrote that with a serious face. Mental note to relax the face while writing.
So I’m better, like fine wine, aged cheese, a good bourbon. A better and bettering version of myself. Is bettering even a word? I have no idea.
I don’t know why I’m writing all of this. My intention was to make a list of 49 things, of various types and intention, in honor of my 49th. Instead I’ve seemed to wax on about how aged I am.
Let’s take a new tack.
I received a boat load of well wishes and birthday congrats and notes of love on Facebook. I have an amazing group of people in my life, which I’ve mentioned on this blog before, and I’m ever so grateful for their presence, support, love, generosity of spirit, and humor. It’s not so much that I have a quantity of people, I have quality people. There’s a huge distinction in that. They are quality people, and I’m beyond lucky to know them, to have them in my life. I know this. I’m blessed.
Which brings me back to the list. The multitude of wishes made me grateful for the people in my life and that made me think of others things I’m grateful for. I thought, at this juncture, it would be good to write some of those down, so the following is a list of things I’m grateful for. It’s like a master list, though I know it will change, has changed, and morph over the years. Some things though, remain constant. I think it’s so important in life to look at what’s good, what’s working, what’s beautiful in our lives. To actually take the time to acknowledge these things, stop in our crazy day, be still, and reflect on what’s good and important to us. The people in my life would be number one. So let’s start there.
1. Family. Born into a group of beautiful people, on both sides, was like winning the lottery. There are people you choose in life, who I will get to in a moment, but the clan you enter the world belonging to can be a matter of luck. My luck was good. They are, to the last of them, quality, wonderful, and staggeringly spectacular. I can’t even being to express the fortune I feel and how proud I am to belong to the lot of them.
2. Friends. Or a better description might be to say they are the family I’ve chosen. Throughout my life I seem to have chosen well. I also find this lucky as I was not always my better self, yet somehow my center chose wisely, most of the time. I’ve met and made friends with so many shining souls in my life I can’t even count them all. As I sit here I see face after face run through my mind and I’m smiling. Each and every one brought, and continues to bring, something singularly special to my life. Such a unique, varied, luminous group of people. I don’t know how I ended up with the pack of you, but I’m so so glad I did. You are more than friends, you are truly family to me.
3. Pups. I’ve always been a dog person. I love their pack mentality. The group is better than the one. I love their loyalty and sweetness and unconditional love. I love how cuddly they are. I realize not all dogs are like this, but in my experience, this is what I’ve found. Our dogs, Weston and Riley, are the most wonderful of creatures. Both quirky and slightly flawed and neurotic in their own little ways, they bring so much joy and love and happiness to our lives. I can’t believe how much I love them, and how much love they give to us. It’s miraculous, the love of our dogs for us. It’s important to honor that, to cherish it, and to take up the responsibility that having them in our lives brings.
4. Wind in the trees. This is a bit of a crazy one, or might seem crazy anyway, but its going to stay here none the less. I love the sound of the wind in the trees. It’s a reminder of the moving world. The wind blows here, it’s blowing somewhere across the world. It carries life and hazard and is alive in its own way. It reminds me how gentle or ferocious life can be and that I should try to be gentler, quieter, softer in my approach. It reminds me how small I am, how big the world is, and that there are people in other places lifting their faces to the wind, closing their eyes, and sighing, just like I do sometimes.
5. The grand boys. I know they are people too, and yes they are included in what I wrote above, but they are worth their own category. Every day it seems I learn something new from them, something new about them. They have such zest, such emotion, such joy for life. They are amazing little men and the fact that I get to be privy to their growth and exploration of the world is magical. Seeing how they respond to things, how they are effected by their world, how they learn, it all stuns me. I’m so grateful for the experience of knowing them and loving them and having them love me.
6. My honey. Yes, she also deserves her own category. I would’ve put her first, as she deserves to be first, and is, but no matter. It doesn’t matter what number gets put next to her on any list, she’s my number one. My center, my split apart, my soul mate. Two people were never more suited for each other. We are like a hand in a perfectly fit glove. We mesh. We work. We somehow found each other. It’s rare, to have this kind of relationship. I know it is. She knows it too. I can be moody and difficult, we have our issues, like everyone does, but the difference is that we are always moving together in the same direction. We find joy in each other, in our relationship. We look at things the same way, with a sense of adventure and excitement. She has more joy than anyone I’ve ever met. I am amazed by her.
7. The Scooter. It’s fun. It’s fast. It’s zippy. It’s freedom on two wheels. Riding it gives me great joy. What more is there to say?
8. A good book. I’m in a reading phase now. I seem to, over the course of my life, go in and out of reading phases. I’ve always loved it, but sometimes I go off reading. I have no idea why. The times when I’m in a reading phase definitely are better times. I am more relaxed, more at peace, more in touch with things outside myself. It’s a good advertisement, in my life anyway, for me trying to stay in a reading phase. New worlds are always waiting inside the pages of a good book.
9. My kindle, and other electronic devices. Is this cheating to bring up the Kindle right after the above number 8? Nah…. I’m a geek. I love all things techy. I love new technology, what it can do, the places it can take me. I have always loved these things. I have no idea why. I don’t really want to know how they work, I just want to figure out their functions and then use them. Whatever thing; phone, laptop, Kindle, iPod, GPS in the Jeep, new app, etc., I happen to be using at the time. Fabulous.
10. The dictionary. The vehicle of its delivery has changed, moving to an online or let’s make that plural as in multiple online dictionaries, but I love them all the same. Words, meanings of words, other words to use in place of words I think I’ve over used, and on and on. The dictionary and/or a good thesaurus, are wonders of the world. I adore them.
11. Chocolate. In all its forms, covered over the top of things or standing alone on its own, I love me some good chocolate.
12. The ocean. Doesn’t really matter which one, though I’m sort of partial to the Pacific as it’s the one I grew up with. The power, the endless depth, the mysteries living there. Again, it’s one of those things that makes me feel small in a big world. As you can probably tell by now I love that feeling. It helps to put things in perspective. I like most forms of natural water; rivers, oceans, big lakes, streams. Even rain. Rain is amazing. I think my Oregon is showing through.
13. Ceiling fans. Crazy as this may seem. I love our ceiling fan in our bedroom. I don’t know if I could sleep without it. It’s the simple pleasures in life. Besides which, in Scappoose we actually named our ceiling fan The Super-Sky-Diving-Fan-Blade-Lady. Yes, if you looked at it just right, like shapes in clouds, you could see her.
14. Filtered sunlight. I’m looking out into the backyard now. It’s now (a few days have gone by since I started this list) the first day of Autumn (which happens to be my favorite of the seasons) and it’s gorgeous outside. The light is coming down in streaks through the trees and it’s absolutely beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Amazing.
15. Weston’s snoring sound. I know I already talked about the dogs, but seriously, his snore rocks. He’s a small dog, but can snore with the best of them. I love that sound.
16. Finding a new band/music and music in general. I’m an explorer by nature. This applies to music as well. I’m constantly looking for new music. Finding a new group/artist is an amazing thing. It lifts my soul. Just as listening to an old standard lifts my soul. Some people aren’t music people, they could care less. I don’t understand those people. I’m moved, shaped, enlightened, lifted, seared to the core, and effected greatly by the music in my life.
17. Birkenstocks. We are a Birkenstock household. There are so many different kinds of Birkenstocks in our house it’s sort of ridiculous, but they are here for a reason. They are comfortable. The most comfortable shoe ever. My feet sing while wearing them.
18. Walkabouts. I love a good stroll. Going places my feet can take me, anywhere I happen to be, is a great thing. My Mom and I just did a 13 plus mile stroll in Chicago recently. We hadn’t planned on walking that far, we just did. The weather was wonderful, the company stellar, and the sights beautiful. Walking is an experiment in living the slow life. It allows you to drink it what’s around you, be more effected by it, be IN it. I recommend it highly.
19. iPhone camera. I’m a fan. Being somewhat of a photographer (I’ve gotten paid to do it occasionally) I have a lot of equipment. Recently, however, I’ve been using my iPhone camera more and more. I’ve done this for a couple of reasons. One, I don’t have to carry around a ton of stuff, my phone is always in my pocket anyway, and two, not carrying around all that stuff and attending to it, and then using it, I feel like I’m more in the moment. I’m still taking loads of photos, but I seem to be more present in situations just using my phone as opposed to big cameras. And to top it off, the iPhone camera is pretty darn good for a phone camera. I like it. I like it a lot.
20. Eggs on toast. We just spent many days in our travel trailer. An egg on toast was a go to breakfast for us during that time. One egg, one piece of toast. Simple, and warm, and tasty. I enjoyed it. I just thought of it this morning, so guess what we had for breakfast today?
21. Autumn. I mentioned fall in an earlier item. It’s my favorite and deserves its own slot. I love the changing of the leaves, I love the new crispness in the air, I love how we clean up the yard and put stuff away and everything starts to get still, quiet. Strangely I love having to put on my long pants and sweatshirts for the first time in months. I love the holidays during fall and how here in Illinois the trees start to bare themselves as the leaves start to fall. It’s a time of change and quieting and relief from the heat.
22. Old fashioned chocolate sodas. To be honest I just discovered these this last week. I liked it so much I’m including it here. Yum.
23. Travel. As I said earlier, I’m an explorer by nature. New places, new things, new experiences are like mana of the gods to me. I drink them in. Travel, by its nature, feeds that need in me to explore. New sights, sounds, people met, and areas to explore feed my soul. I’m a bit of a nomad and travel, of any kind and distance, fills that part of me.
24. Our new travel trailer. Related, obviously, to the previous item, our travel trailer rocks. We just got it this summer and ended up spending, so far, nearly 50 nights traveling around and sleeping in it. I never got tired of it. It’s small, but feels big for its size. I think, honestly, I could actually live in it. That won’t happen, as having a home base is necessary for my honey, and probably for me as well, but I think I could. It’s perfect for the two of us and our two fur heads. It symbolizes adventure and fun and exploration. I’m ready to take it out again.
25. Tasty vittles. Along with new places to see, I love finding new foods I like. As well, truth be told, as eating standard favorites of mine. A good meal shared with good people and maybe a nice glass of Barbera d’Alba. Yum.
26. Quiet time. I’m a person who enjoys solitude and silence. In fact I don’t just enjoy it, I need it. Sitting alone in a space reading, watching tv, drinking coffee, looking around, or just sitting and thinking, is necessary for me. I call it my recharge time. It’s important for me. And consequently it’s important for those around me. I’m a better me when I get time to myself once in a while. If I don’t I begin to feel overloaded, overwhelmed, and a tad crazy pants. Plus, I just plain enjoy it.
27. The blogs. Creative outlets, period the end. I love writing, I love taking photos, and I love having a place to put that out into the world. Read or not read (though I prefer read) I so enjoy the constant platforms for creativity.
28. Speaking of photography. Photography. I see the world a certain way. I see it in detail. The whole is beautiful, but the real secret beauty lives in the details. A leaf, an arm, a man smoking a cigar, shadows and light. I have always seen this way, though I think using a camera so much has heightened this sense of mine. When I capture what I’ve just seen with my eyes in a photograph it’s an incredible feeling.
29. Words. Written by others, written by myself, lyrics, stanzas, dialogue, conversation, puns, silly phrases, novels, poems, short stories, witty commercials, plays, dictionaries, etc. No matter the vehicle, words mean a lot to me. I’m grateful for their breadth and depth and expanse. I’m grateful to be able to convey and to have things conveyed to me. I’m grateful for the expression of others and my ability to express. They are the bread and fruit of life.
30. A good hug. My brother, Kev, is a fantastic hugger. He’s known for it actually. I think his hugs will go down in song and story. He hugs with the all of himself. It engulfs and warms and conveys so much. There’s nothing like a good hug. We are a hugging family. We are people who hug. There’s a reason for that.
31. Experience. Vague, yes, but not really meant to be. I love new experiences with the people in my life. Fishing on Stan’s boat, disc golf with the Gal Up group, crab feast with the POD, fantasy football, going out for a bite to eat, bike rides, walks, dinners at the houses of great friends, train rides, laughing and laughing, seeing a film, reading a book, walking on a beach, kayaking, exploring cool buildings, seeing great art, and on and on and on. The experiences we have are everything. What we own, nothing. The time we spend with the people we love, doing things we love, that’s where the heart and soul of living is.
32. Bike rides. I have always loved the feeling of being on a bike. It’s always meant freedom and fun to me. When I was a kid a whole gang of us would ride around together, exploring the neighborhood. I bought my first bike, a sweet little green 10 speed, when I was in junior high. I’d had bikes before, but that was the first one I paid for by myself. I saved the money. It was so cool. I rode that bike for years actually. I think it’s even the one I took to college with me. It was, during school days, my main mode of transport. Somehow I let that bike go and didn’t have another one for a long time. In recent years I’ve gotten back into it, not as a major cyclist or anything, just as a day rider, and have loved every moment I’m in the seat. It’s liberating, invigorating, and free. Last year I got a new, slightly better bike, and it’s been heaven. Stepping out to the garage and just hoping on the bike and going out for a spin, so much fun. SO much fun. Makes me feel the same way I did when I was a kid.
33. Life. I’m grateful for it. Four years ago first my honey and then I had brushes with death. Both sicknesses, both life threatening, both terrifying. We each pulled through with flying colors, but at times, for each of us, it was touch and go. I’m grateful we are both here and loving, laughing, experiencing, exploring, and trying to drink in every bit of life. I’m so very grateful.
34. Not taking things for granted. I don’t. I feel an expanding sense of gratitude all the time. I know my life is good, and I don’t take that for granted. I’m glad I don’t. I’m lucky to know not to. I’ve always been this way, but as I get older, and as I’ve experienced more in life, I feel this even more. I wish I could gift it to everyone, this feeling of being so thankful for what I have, and so in tune with that feeling. It changes everything, or can anyway. I know people who struggle with life, always feeling they are owed, or due something, or that they have been robbed of something. I feel so sad for them. Honestly sad. Our lives are a matter of perspective. “Coffey looks and he sees hate and fear, you have to look with better eyes than that”. It’s my favorite line from the move The Abyss. It says everything there is to say. We all have to look with our best eyes. I’m not preaching here, OK, maybe I am just a little, I’m just trying to say that I’m grateful that I don’t take things for granted and I wish everyone could feel what that feels like.
35. Connection. I feel a deep sense of connection. Not just to my family and friends, but to the world at large. I feel a spiritual connection to all living things, and therefore a responsibility to them. I’m grateful for this feeling. It brings a depth to my life, helping me to center myself at times, to know my place. Again, I’m but a drop in the bucket and this larger living world is a huge place filled with wonders.
36. Silliness. I was going to write a good laugh here, but changed my mind and wrote silliness instead. There’s nothing like being silly, being a dork, being unafraid to be ridiculous and not care what anyone thinks. I’m a total dork. I admit it. I embrace it. I say and do things that get me strange looks at times. I’m OK with that. I’m grateful for the quirk in myself, for the quirk in my friends, for the dorkiness of my family, for the natural pratfalls and schtick, and playfulness in myself and the people I love. Everyone should be willing to dance in the rain and do silly stuff just to make the people you love laugh. At least, that’s what I think. Last night I was talking in the most ridiculous southern accent just to make my honey laugh. She did. It was awesome.
37. Film. I adore a good movie. I cry, learn, expand, dream, breathe, laugh, and find so much beauty in movies. I always have. It’s the stories, the hope, the despair, the human commonality, the connection with places and people who I feel I know. Near or far, made in the US or not, these stories grow a world view, empower change, enlighten, and sometimes offer an escape and relief from my daily life. I value them, their contribution, their art. I value their expression and message, even if I don’t always agree with it. Movies enrich my life in a myriad of ways.
38. The Library. I’ve always been a fan of libraries. When I was younger I used to hang out in them a bit to do homework, people watch, enjoy a quiet place. I never took full advantage of one and I’m not sure I even had a library card (other than in college) anywhere I’ve lived, until now. When we moved to C-U we, naturally because it’s why we moved here, started hanging out a lot with our first grandson. The library in our town has a great children’s area and a couple of times we found ourselves there with him exploring the kids area, playing with the train, running up and down the little stairs. I decided to look around a bit and discovered they had a lot to offer and set about getting a library card. I’m so glad I did. Books, movies, music, magazines, and so much are now at my fingertips. I created a hold list and add stuff to it all the time. It’s so much fun. In a time in our lives when we are trying to live smaller, use less, and have less, the library provides a great way for me to still enjoy all those things I love without having to pay out tons of money, or find tons of space in the house. Plus, again, it’s so much fun.
39. The Y. We also joined the Y when we moved here. We’d never been members of a gym together. Not really. Well, OK, we joined another gym the first year we were here, but it was small and in a mall. Neither of those things were necessarily bad, but it was limited. Then the new Y opened up and we went in to check it out. Great facility. Pools, weight rooms, indoor track, rock climbing wall, great locker room facilities, and a great play space for the grand boys. We were hooked and signed up. We go through spurts when using it, like most people with gym memberships, but the diverse class offerings (we’re going to try yoga next week), combined with the facilities themselves and the incredibly nice staff make it a total winner. We absolutely love it, and I’m particularly fond of it now as I’m back in a swimming mode and love being in the water.
40. Our meat man. I get a lot of joy out of this one. When we moved to Illinois from Oregon I did a lot of research on sustainable food sources, organic availability, grocery stores and what they offered, etc. Coming from the Portland area we were used to having locally sourced meat and other foods available to us all the time. What I found in my search here was that we could join a meat club. Yay. Seriously, it’s the coolest thing. We buy our meat directly from a farmer. We can visit the farm, though we haven’t, if we want to. We know his practices, like him and the other people who work the truck when we do our monthly pick up, and totally dig on the superior quality of the meat we are now eating. It tastes better than anything we’ve ever purchased, anywhere. It rocks, and we love that we get the majority of our meat this way. We get an email every month, we use and order form and email back what we want, we show up at the pick up spot and pick it up. It rocks.
41. Quirky art. My honey and I are fans of art. All kinds actually. We’ve purchased sculptures and paintings and photography and funky lamps and stain glass pieces. We’ve even made some of our own, of various kinds. It’s a great thing to go to some art fair and find something we both love. It’s a rule, we don’t buy anything unless we agree on it, which actually isn’t that tough since our tastes are similar. I love the pieces we’ve purchased and so does she. We haven’t regretted a single one and the whole of them makes our house uniquely ours. It’s funky, it’s fun, it’s joyous. And I’m grateful for the funky beautiful things we’ve managed to collect. They represent us well.
42. Coffee. I can’t believe this didn’t occur to me earlier in this list, but no matter. I love a great cup of joe. Love it. We buy our beans from a local roasting company and every morning we grind them fresh and make two french presses full of gorgeous, beautiful, sweet-smelling coffee. There’s nothing like that first cup of the day, except for maybe the third cup… or the second. We’re also fans of going out to a local spot (no Starbucks for us anymore), and enjoying a nice cup of drip coffee. A good cup of coffee can be heaven in a cup.
43. Our DVR. This one is a tad shallow, but who cares. These are the things I’m grateful for and the DVR, and services like Netflix, are on the list. I love not having to watch commercials. I love being able to watch what we want when we want to. I love the ease of it all. I love the technology of it all. We watch only what we want, when we want to, and barely know anything else is on. Lovely.
44. The Up Center. Moving to a new place is tough. Especially when you love where you already live, have a fantastic group of friends, and aren’t over the moon with where you are going. Our transition, those first couple of months, was tough. We cried, we had regrets, we asked ourselves what the hell were we thinking and why did we do it? Of course, we did it for the grand son (there was only the one at the time, not the two and the baby girl on the way we have now) and he was totally worth it. It’s just that we had a big big life in Oregon and at first our move here was difficult. But, we found a little place called the Up Center, went to a group or two, met some people, and started making friends. All the friends we have here we met through that organization. It’s because of that I’m so grateful for it. We have a stellar group of friends here. A truly amazing group. A group we probably wouldn’t have met otherwise.
45. Big Boy Shorts/Pants. I’m a huge fan of cargo shorts. My honey and I call these our big boy shorts. We also have big boy pants. Nothing says convenience more than shorts equipped with pockets. Keys, phone, wallet, etc. They all fit. No purse, no backpack, no anything else to carry. It’s perfect. They are perfect. I really dig them. Grateful for the ease of wearing them.
46. Our bird feeders. I’ve never really been into birds. I mean, they can be lovely and all, but I wasn’t ever a bird watcher or anything. Then we moved to Illinois and my honey wanted bird feeders. She is a bird lover. We tried a few configurations including sitting them up on things or putting them on hooks. We have a lot of trees which means we have a lot of squirrels. Finally it occurred to us that we needed something taller. A long story short, we actually sunk posts in with hooks on each side. We stained them, put copper tops on them, and used nice wrought iron hooks. They’re great. And we get loads of birds. So many types it’s amazing. I’m a bird person now.
47. Our down comforters. We have both a summer and a winter comforter, they’re both down. There’s something extra snuggly about getting into bed with either of these on. They make our life so much more comfortable. They’re awesome.
48. Grateful. I’m grateful for being grateful. I often feel a wave of gratefulness wash over me. Not sure where it comes from all the time, but it happens. I’m grateful for this feeling. For knowing there’s so much to be grateful for.
49. A positive attitude. It’s fitting that I should save this for last. It’s important to me, and a big part of who I am. Don’t get me wrong. I am afraid sometimes, really afraid. I worry. I get really angry sometimes. I’m moody. I’m not always the person who says let’s hold hands and all sing kumbaya. But for the most part, most of the time, I’m pretty upbeat. I tend to look on the bright side. I think it’s a mixture of hope and what I believe to be true all rolled together. I’m genuinely hopeful, most of the time. I also genuinely believe in the overwhelming good of most people. I know there are evil souls out there doing bad things, but I truly believe that for the most part people are good, are trying to do what they think is best, are sincere and giving and gracious and kind. I believe that. I’m glad I do. I believe that things can work out. They don’t always, but they can. I’ve always been this way. Maybe that’s why the teachers at my high school gave me a president’s award my senior year for having the best attitude. I believe we should smile at each other, with our eyes, and say thank you, and that we should be friendly, we should be nice. A positive attitude gives you a lot in return as well. In my opinion it just doesn’t project out toward the world, it gives you a better view of it.
So there it is. My list of 49 things I’m grateful for as I start this year of my life. 50 is just around the corner and I can’t wait to see what the rest of this year, leading up to that milestone, brings to my life. It’s exciting.
Our boy turns seven today. Seven years of love and snuggles and play and joy and laughter and smiles and exasperation and sweetness and tail wagging and pawing and cuddle-time and barks and bullies and deep soulful looks. Happy birthday little man, we love you so.
I wake up, suddenly. I feel like someone is staring at me. I turn over slowly and there he is, a small furry little fella with big brown eyes sitting over me looking down. His eyes say everything he can’t speak. I’m half awake and tell him no. Gently at first… no buddy, lay down, lay down now. He doesn’t take no for an answer and leans down and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Again I say, no buddy, lay down. He’s relentless. I try to go a bit more firm with him, NO, Weston, lay down. He ignores me. We’re having a battle of wills.
I tell him I didn’t get to sleep until really late last night and in fact have only slept for about four or five hours. He doesn’t seem to care. I change tactics. I ask if he needs to go outside. Maybe that’s it. I get up, he follows, and I think, OK, this is it. I open the doggie door and he sticks his head out, then pulls it back in. He sticks it out one more time, looks around, and again pulls it back in. I don’t have time for these shenanigans. I open the door, telling him it’s OK and that a little rain/freezing rain won’t hurt him and that I’ll stand right there in the door, in t-shirt and shorts, waiting for him. It’s freezing cold outside and I’m cold waiting in the doorway. He ventures out tentatively, makes it to the bottom of the steps, and immediately turns around and comes back in. I shake my head and pad back toward the bedroom. I need more sleep.
Of course, he follows me. I get back in bed and look down. He’s sitting on the floor next to the bed looking up at me, those big eyes doing their magic trick on me again. Practically programmed I scoot back, making room for him. I open up the covers and he jumps up effortlessly, laying down up against me with his head on my arm. He demands to be petted for a while, continually nudging me with his nose until I get just the right spot on his tummy. It’s nearly 8:00 AM now. I still want to go back to sleep.
We stay in that place for what seems like a long while, me petting his tummy, him enjoying what we have come to call his morning cuddle time. This is not the first time this scenario has happened. He’s trained me well.
Finally, finally, I hear him snore. This little sign tells me I can stop petting him and try to go to sleep. I do.
We both wake up. Him still up against me, head on my arm. I just spent over an hour spooning our boy. I vow, as I get up, and he gets up reluctantly, that this won’t happen again. It’s a vow I’ve made many times. His soul filled eyes melt my heart, even when I’m irritated by him. I remind myself he’s just a dog, but I love him so.
He jumps up on the sofa next to me, stares at me with those eyes, and paws my hand.
Weston is a guy of deep thoughts and feelings. He has soul.
I looked up a moment ago and there he was sitting on the chair in the corner looking out the window. He looked like a person, deep in thought, contemplating all of life’s ups and downs. He looked introspective and philosophical. He looked like Weston usually looks.
Six years ago we decided we wanted to get a dog and we decided on a Schnoodle because Karen’s daughter, Mary, had one and we loved him. So cute, great personality, small, and to top it off they don’t shed and they have hair akin to human hair so they don’t have dander and don’t smell like a dog. Ever. In fact they sort of have a smell all their own, each in their own way, like humans do. But I digress.
We went and looked at some dogs in East/Central Oregon and when one of the little guys came over and licked my toe it was all over. He was the one. Six weeks later, in April of 2007, we went and picked him up in Portland where we met with the woman who raised him. We’d had a name picked out for him already, but when we saw him, looked in his eyes, we knew instantly the name didn’t work. He looked too smart for the name. Too studious. Too deep. So on the drive back home, with the little guy sitting on Karen’s lap in the brand new bed we’d gotten for him, we threw names around. None fit until somehow one of us, I think it was Karen, mentioned the town of his birth, Weston. Yes, he was born in Weston, Oregon in the Blue Mountains. We looked at each other and that was it. Somehow, some way, Weston seemed right. It suited him. The him of major thought and intense looks.
Now, nearly six years later, he still has that same look. That deep look. He looks at you and into you at the same time. He is a guy of passionate feelings and sincere real love. He is incredibly smart, cunning, and curious. He is our little man.
Riley is girl of deep feelings, but of a different sort. She’s a little spitfire.
A year after we were lucky enough to get Weston we decided he needed a companion for those times we had to leave him at home. We didn’t want him to be alone. We wanted him to have a little pal, a buddy. He got a sister, not a natural born sister, but a sister none the less, and they have a love hate relationship. We had a name picked out for her too, and that one ended up sticking. Somehow Riley fits her. She’s full of energy, very vocal, and loves to put her head up against our heads and have a little pet. She gets so excited she can hardly contain herself, and is a tad quirky, but we adore her.
This morning when I looked over at Weston looking out the window a wave of love came over me, as it does so often with both of our little furry babes. Karen and/or I say, at least once a day I think, “I love them”. One of us always says it and the other one then always says, “I do too”. And we do. We love them. We love how they love us. How Weston always welcomes us home with a whole body wiggle and Riley always wants to lay in a lap. We love Weston’s kisses and the little girlie’s insistent pawing for a pet. We even love their more annoying habits, as you do with little beings you cherish. We love the schnoods. Like I loved how he was looking out the window this morning like a little person. Just as I love how, right now, he’s laying in my lap snuggling, looking back at me with those eyes with those deep deep feelings, and Riley is all curled up in Karen’s lap snuggling in close to her. We love them.
The drive on day six was awesome. We went to Caffe Mela in Wenatchee before we started, as usual going to a local coffee place we’d found, and fueled up before heading to Leavenworth. It’s a quick drive over to Leavenworth from Wenatchee and we were there in 30 minutes or so. Not bad. The four of us wandered the town, looking in windows, walking in the grass, taking a couple of photos with the phone. Nice. Then it was on the road for the drive to Salem, by way of Portland.
We were pretty happy as we entered Oregon near The Dalles. I tried to take a photo of the entering Oregon sign, but Riley was on my lap and bumped my arm. I got a fantastic shot of the side of the bridge. The drive along 84, done so many times by both of us both separately and together, was gorgeous. We passed Multnomah Falls, Karen driving, and I tried to lean over and take a photo as we whizzed by. I think I got a great photo of the dog bed and a tiny view of the falls. Hilarious. My photo taking abilities were definitely lacking yesterday.
We stopped in Portland to pick up a half a tray of lasagna from our favorite Italian place, Piazza Italia. Yum. We’d called and ordered in advance because my honey has been craving this lasagna for a year. We had it for dinner. It was yummy.
We arrived at Mom and Don’s last night about 6:00. 2584.1 miles, 8 states, 6 days and we finally were able to stop driving. Yay! Don’t get us wrong, we love road trips, but being able to stop and not have to drive the next day… lovely. The dogs are liking it too, though we’re sure they thought they lived in the car after spending so much time there over the last several days. They thought that was their life. Good thing they adjust pretty well as long as they’re with us. Kev was here to greet us, very nice. Nothing like a Kev hug on arrival.
Next on the agenda… enjoy this fantastic Oregon weather. It’s supposed to be low to mid 80’s very low humidity the next several days. Lovely lovely.
I love words and this is a great one. Pronunciamento. Meaning… pro·nun·ci·a·men·to [pruh-nuhn-see-uh-men-toh, -shee-uh-] noun, plural pro·nun·ci·a·men·tos. a proclamation; manifesto; edict.
I came across this one today as I was looking around the dictionary. Or more precisely, in this new age, dictionary.com. It’s a wonderful word found in a wonderful place. Dictionaries are exciting, to me anyway. I’ve been reading them since I knew what one was and found one in our house. Words. Wonderful.
I used to play word games with some of my work mates. Emails going around with sentences made up of words with the same letter. Peter picked pickled peppers. Like that. We’d start with A and work our way to Z and back again, or we’d rhyme, or be cute some other way with wonderful wacky words. Fun, to us anyway. We’d stretch our minds, our vocabularies, and we’d laugh and laugh. Words are good like that.
Today as I looked around I came across this great word. Had never heard of it. And now I love it. I am also, I think, going to use it here. Make a pronunciamento about things I’d like to do this summer… a proclamation of sorts. Here, publicly, live and “in person”. Maybe if I put some things down here I will do some of them… maybe I already have. Maybe I would anyway. No matter… it’s a fun exercise.
(Riley is playing with her Uncle Kevin right now… he’s rubbing her belly, she’s growling, barking, and jumping up to wiggle around and play bite at him. She’s like popcorn. It’s cute. They missed each other.)
A noise outside wakes me up. It wakes Weston as well. He moves slightly, growls toward the window, and then stands up. I know I’m in trouble. Outside the wind tosses the branches against each other. It’s a nice sound. I can’t go back to sleep, but want to. Thinking I’ll have a better chance I get up and head to the bathroom, Weston decides he needs to get up as well. Padding in toward the dog door I open it so he can go out. We both do our business and it’s time to head back to bed. He won’t get in unless I let him go first, so he jumps up and then I get in behind him. It’s time to spoon. Yes, yes, I know.
Weston loves to cuddle. He is one of the most affectionate dogs I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what it is, but he’s always been like this. Maybe it’s because he came into our lives when he was younger than he should have been. Maybe he has always been, since that first day, treated like our child. Maybe it’s just that he’s so emotional. Whatever the reason, he loves a good cuddle. His two favorite cuddling positions are one, laying on his back while I cradle him and pet his belly as we sit in a recliner. And two… morning snuggle time. He loves to spoon. This is hilarious, but true.
Weston is, after all, a little creature of habit, just like his sister. He’s also a smart one. A pain in the ass to be sure, but that’s a post for another time. I’m usually on my side with my arm out. He lays right up against me, over my arm, puts his head on the pillow, and then wants me to put my other hand on his back. He also likes it if he’s so close that my head sort of lays on him and the pillow at the same time. It’s so funny. And yes, I sometimes cuddle him. He gets a couple of minutes of this and sometimes longer if I actually fall asleep in this position. It cracks me up. He would like this to happen every day, which it doesn’t, but he’d very much like it if it did.
His little sister has her thing too…
We get ready for bed and all get in. Each dog in their little dog beds on our bed. We all sort of relax and just when it gets quiet and mellow, Riley decides she needs to get back up. She stands up, one of us says to her, OK… go get a drink. She jumps down, goes to the water bowl, drinks really loudly for a tiny 10 pound dog, jumps back up, and lays back down. Every night, same routine.
Bedtime. 9:30 rolls around and they both get surly and disgusted if we don’t go to bed. If we are in the media room Riley is in a dog bed on a chair and Weston is usually asleep on the couch or laying on me. One of us gets up to get a drink or something and they both sit up, on alert, waiting for us to say the magic words… time for bed. They will even jump down, start to head upstairs in the hope that it’s time. We have to say to them… not yet. Not quite yet. Being the little creatures of habit that they are it’s tough for them to alter their course.
Ah well… the wind is still blowing out there now. The sun is up and so are we. I’m sitting on the couch in the living room typing away around Riley, who is laying on my lap. Yes, it’s hard to type with a dog in ones lap. Weston is laying next to me, pressed up against my leg. It’s time for breakast though and they are starting to let me know. Riley has just jumped up and gotten in my face. Weston keeps nudging me. OK, OK… I get the message. Loud and clear. Don’t want to mess with the routine…
I walked out into the backyard this afternoon to throw the ball a little for the boy. He’s been restless today. Sometimes he gets like that. Usually chewing on a bully (which I gave him) or throwing the ball a couple of times in the house (which I did), or letting him sit on my lap and petting him (also did) work to assuage his anxiousness. Not today. He is sort of a high strung anxious little guy sometimes. So outside I went, in my lounge pants (AKA pajama bottoms) that I’m still wearing. Yes, the advantages of Karen and I working from home is the ability to stay dressed down for the day. Until we have to go out in public that is, but that’s a topic for another day. Back to Alfie… or more accurately, Weston. I was kind of desperate to have him quit bugging me. I love him, but having him come up to me and nudge my hand, or bark at me, or whatever over and over today was getting on my nerves. So out into the backyard, in my lounge pants, I went. I threw the ball for him a few times. Riley also got in on the action a little… in all ways actually. She chewed on the bully, tugged on her brown thing (formerly a stuffed monkey, now just the brown thing), chased Weston’s ball in the house, and got her own lap sitting complete with a pet or two. She was also in on the outside ball throwing action. We also just took them for a short walk around a couple of blocks… not in our lounge pants (Karen had to get out of the house and off the phone for 30 minutes… it’s a bad one today for her)… but again, I digress. So while we were outside, the dogs and I that is, in the backyard (me in my lounge pants), I noticed Alfie. He was laying near the back steps. Poor guy. I picked him up and found, for the third or fourth time since he’s been a part of the family, that he was soaking wet. Weston, who has taken a particular shine to Alfie, carries him around sometimes. Sometimes that means he carries Alfie outside. And sometimes he gets distracted by a squirrel, drops Alfie, and forgets to bring him back in the house. If we notice Alfie out there at night, which we have in the past when we take the pups out for their last constitution before bed, we tell Weston to get Alfie and bring him in, which he does. Pretty cute actually. I say… “Weston, go get Alfie. Get him. Good boy!” and he does. He will go get him. But today, Alfie’s fate was not of the warm and dry kind. He was soaking. Forgotten yesterday by Weston outside and left to weather the storm on his own. Poor Alfie.
After I saw Alfie I brought him in, of course, and propped him up on the kitchen counter to dry. It’s his normal drying spot. Seems to work. Weston will miss him until Alfie re-joins the fold, but it has to be done.
And speaking of Weston missing him… this is interesting. Weston has never really taken any particular interest in any one toy. He loves chasing and catching the ball the most and will occasionally carry around the Mailman or the Hedgehog. Both of which have stayed in tact, a sure sign he likes them as he hasn’t chewed the stuffing out of them. But that’s about it… he will carry one around for awhile and then put it down, forgotten for quite a long time until the next time he picks one up and carries it around. Alfie is different. We picked up Alfie, and his co-hort Squiggy, when we stopped at Praireland Feeds (where we buy the pup’s food) on my birthday weekend as we headed out of town. I noticed this little bin of stuffed things and thought the pups needed a little treat for the trip so I picked up a red and green one. The naming of them happened after we got home from the weekend. Weston took a particular liking to red, later named Alfie. He started carrying him around everywhere. He brought him to bed with him, something he’s never done with anything other than a bully stick before (which we don’t let him have in bed by the way), carried him outside when he went out to do his business, brought him downstairs to the media room when we went down to watch TV at night, and had him with him when he took his naps. He has never done this and it’s kind of cute. He and Alfie have become fast fast friends. Squiggy gets a tad bit of attention, but he’s usually a meager substitute for Alfie when Alfie is out of commission, like he is today.
Weston will be happy when Alfie dries off and is dropped back on the floor. I’m sure he and his little buddy will be stuck like glue again, until the next time he’s left outside and gets showered on.
We had such a fantastic weekend. So great that I’m tired today. OK, maybe to be more accurate I should say that I’m partially tired from having to get up in the middle of the night to the let the dogs out. For some reason, and this is a rare event, they both had to go out. There’s the little girlie getting up for water and then not jumping back in the bed. Bad sign. I got up to find her and she was waiting in the hallway for me. She ran over to the doggie door and then I heard Weston coming along as well. I opened the door, they go out, and there I am peeking through the curtains over the sliders trying to see them out in the backyard at four in the morning. Too funny. So I could be tired from that. But, the weekend was so busy, so much fun, and tiring in a totally good way as well.
It started Friday night with a Gal Up (a group we’ve found and joined) event at a local bar, the Esquire Lounge in downtown Champaign. Drink, food, talk, pool playing, and good times had by all. A great night with cool women. Saturday we got up early to go watch Sebastian’s first swimming lesson here in the U.S. He’s somewhat of a swimming lesson expert as he’s been in them since he was like three months old or something in the U.K. But it’s been a little while since he’s been in the pool, so he was a tad cautious. He had a big hold on Mary most of the time. He didn’t cry, but he was unsure. By the end though he was a champ, showing that now famous smile all over the place. He’s going to be great and it was such a blast watching him, and watching Mary be such a fantastic Mom with him when he was unsure and scared and such. Makes a person tear up watching the kid be so good with her kid. Impressive. After the swim lesson we took a jaunt over to Einstein Bagels with the kids to have a little bagel breakfast and then went over to their house for a bit to visit with Ashley, one of Mary’s friends and bridesmaids, who was visiting for the weekend from Indianapolis, where she’s living now. It was really nice to see her. Ashley recently got married, the wedding the kids went to over the weekend we did our overnight babysitting for the first time. After we left the kid’s place we came home, picked up the pups, and headed out to Mahomet and a lovely new to us walking trail out there. A great spot to walk them. There are numerous trails to hit so it will be fun to go back out there and see what’s what with those. On Saturday we only walked for about a mile, one way, because it was really sunny, with no shade, and Weston doesn’t much like the heat. He was panting and kept trying to lay down in close to the tall grass. We couldn’t keep going so we turned around, but they got a nice walk in anyway. Afterward we came home and just enjoyed being here. Watched some of the World Series, ate dinner followed by caramel corn, relaxed. Nice.
Yesterday we had a nice mellow morning at home. Brewed and drank some coffee, we each looked at our fantasy football teams and adjusted (we played each other this week), drank more coffee, pet on the pups a lot, and lounged in our living room. Later we’d finally had enough of that lounging stuff and took the pups for a long walk. We discovered a great area on campus only about a 15 minute walk from our house. Fantastic. It’s near the Arboretum, which includes the Idea Garden, and Japan House. So great. There’s an actual hill over there. You can see out a ways. We plan on going back to the garden with a camera to get some ideas. It is the idea garden after all. We also plan on taking the pups back over there again. It’s so close to our house. It’s so cool that we keep finding all these great places to take the dogs for walks. We’re loving that. After the walk we met up with Ann, one of our new friends here in Illinois, and drove out to Hardy’s Reindeer Ranch where we met other peeps and then all did the corn maze. We ended up splitting into two groups and raced each other. Texting the other group with things like… Number 5! There were eight punch stations to get in the maze and we were racing to see which group could get them all first. We were ahead most of the time, until the end, when they managed to squeak by us for the win. Damn Dracula! Where were you?!?! We also looked at the reindeer, the pumpkins, and watched the pumpkin cannon shoot a pumpkin out into a field. The cannon was pretty impressive. A fun time with great ladies. After the Reindeer Ranch we headed home again, hung with the pups for a little bit, and then went over to the kid’s place for dinner. We played with the grandson, ate some food, and watched the beginning of World Series game four with the kids before heading home where we loved on the pups and finished watching the game.
A lot of stuff…. a busy weekend. Fun. Illinois is growing on us. We love the adventure of discovering things in a new place. We are loving… and let me say… L-O-V-I-N-G… the fall weather here. Beautiful blue skies, gorgeous fall colors, and warmish (enough to be in t-shirts yesterday). We are loving being close to the kids and getting to see Sebastian all the time, go to his little classes, hang out and play. And we are finding some friends, getting to know some people, starting to make a life here. We still miss everyone in Oregon tremendously, but we are starting to really settle in, and excited about all the new things we’ve yet to discover and do. Everything is an adventure when you live in a new place. It’s kinda cool….
We went for little walk today. We needed to get the pups out and about, moving their little feet, so we took them over to Mahomet. It’s a little burg 10 minutesWest of here with a couple of great places to walk. One, the Mabery Gelvin Botanical Gardens and the Lake of the Woods, and the other, still part of the Lake of the Woods Forest Preserve, but called Buffalo Trace Prairie. We’d been to the Lake of the Woods and the Botanical Gardens so we tried the Buffalo Trace Prairie walk. Lovely. We had a fantastic walk, other than the fact that Weston seemed to not like the heat. It was 30 degrees warmer today than it was two days ago. Beautiful sunshine and we were back to wearing t-shirts. Gotta love the rapidly changing weather of Central Illinois.
Tomorrow we head to Hardy’s Reindeer Ranch in nearby Rantoul with some new friends. Time to try our luck with the corn maze and maybe, if they have it (?), drink some cider. I’m sure there will be photos galore, but for now these are some I took today during the walk. Cheers.
Karen, the pups, and I took a walk a couple of days ago at our favorite local park, Meadowbrook. As we walked the path, looked at the natural prairie that’s been restored, and enjoyed the many sculptures and natural beauty along the way we had an epiphany…. this is big stuff people, so listen up.
We feel that as we age we should patina instead of wrinkle. How cool would this be? Instead of drying out and wrinkling up we would all slowly turn a lovely shade of green. Women would get upset because men would probably turn green more quickly. And since green would be the new “wrinkle free” this would be fodder for many a joke on the late night talk show circuit. There would be creams developed to give that certain special shine to your patina. But since we would patina and not wrinkle, we’d all look like we did when we were 21. Granted, sadly this would do nothing for the whole sagging thing, but hey… we can only solve one serious world issue per walk.
That’s it… our big ah ha moment. These are the conversations we have…
Enjoy some photos taken with our little Canon SD750 during the walk. Notice the woman… this is the sculpture that inspired the whole revelation.
We have had a full week here in Illinois. Loads of barbecuing at both our house and over at Mary and Martin’s, we went to a cheese festival in Arthur Illinois, which also happens to be in Amish Country so we saw loads of Amish (a first for both of us). We even bought some Amish goods here at our Saturday Market at the Square this last Saturday when we finally made it over there (yummy cinnamon bread… so good). We went to the Children’s museum in Decatur and made big bubbles and watched the little boy climb up and down the little slide and pull and pull the fake wooden garden vegetables out of the fake wooden garden. I had another blow draw (numbers normal… yay!) and a shot this week. Karen put together the spring thunder horse so Sebastian could ride on it the way Mary did when she was a wee sprout. Karen saved it all this time just for this moment… when her daughter would have a child and he/she could ride it. It brought tears to both of our eyes. We took the dogs in for their first vet appointment to get them checked for heart worm (clear!) and get another round of heart worm meds for them. We went on a few walks with the pups at Meadowbrook Park (our favorite in town), once with a couple of people we met through the UP Center (LGBT center in town). And we celebrated Sebastian’s first birthday two days ago. Who can believe he’s one… wow! We will be celebrating again tomorrow when some friends of Martin and Mary arrive and Mary makes some delicious spiced cupcakes in the shape of trucks. Presents have already been opened, but there’s always time to have another celebration… especially when cake is involved! We had our handyman over and he took the first step in eliminating the spindles between our kitchen and dining room. Spindles out… now the finish work is all that’s left to do. He’s coming back on Monday to take care of that. We have him working on an estimate to put in a garage door opener and then we will have him give us an estimate for putting crown molding throughout the upper floor of the house.
We are adjusting to life in Illinois. The weather has turned nice. Cooler… much much less humidity, and cool nights! We are loving it. It’s been in the mid to upper 70’s during the day, and in the upper 40’s to lower 50’s at night. We are actually wearing sweatshirts (with our shorts and flip flops of course… and my honey’s boot… so fashionable) once in awhile now. I actually had a blanket on my lap last night as we sat down in our media room watching the first NFL game of the season. My honey scored a load of points on her men in the game… her fantasy football year is off to a great start!
Now… we are going to take the pups and walk downtown to the Common Ground Food Co-op. Time to get some organics, some deodorant, and maybe a snack for the walk back. We have to wear sweatshirts… and, it may just rain on us. We are not complaining!
What follows are some shots, mostly taken by Karen, during our road trip east. It was a tiring four days, but we got er done… as they say. We were so lucky to have Mom and Sandy along to help out. They were amazing and true champs! People say this all the time, but in our case we totally mean it… we couldn’t have done it without them! Thank you guys, you were wonderful traveling companions, and true champs of the road! We love you!
Seven states, 2300 miles, three nights in hotels with four adults and two dogs, road food, great conversation, some beautiful scenery, more gas money into a big ol’ truck and a car than two girls ever want to pay for again, and no real issues… it was a tiring, but good trip east.
The schnoodles are laying next to and on me, sleeping and not sleeping. They try to sleep, want attention for awhile, demand attention for a little longer, then go back to sleep again. They both want to be touching me. It’s cute… lovely…. warm… and sometimes, admittedly, sort of annoying. But, then I look at them, in their little eyes, and the fleeting millisecond of annoyance turns right back to adoration and love.
Weston just got up and wandered off… maybe he “heard” me talking about him. Or maybe just maybe he is getting restless before his Uncle Kevin comes home. He LOVES his Uncle Kevin and always gets restless when it’s about that time… time for Kev to come on in. Weston wanders, looks out the window, barks and runs out when he thinks it might be Uncle Kevin. It’s cute.
Combine that with the fact that his Mamma is gone right now getting our house in Illinois, and he’s even more of a mess. I’m sure he’s looking for her too. Riley does that as well. So do I for that matter. We are all missing her. Until she comes home it will be like this… the pups stuck to me, a bit restless, looking out the window, barking when they hear a noise that might be, is it, maybe…. Wanting pets, wanting love, wanting to make sure that if they are sleeping they are touching me somehow. Riley is asleep next to me right now and has all four of her little paws up against my leg. Adorable.
I am surrounded… by boxes, by stuff to pack, and by dogs…. beautiful little lovable dogs.
I’m sitting here at the computer not doing what I’m supposed to be doing, but then… exactly what am I supposed to be doing? Packing. Yes, I should be packing. Books into tubs to take, kitchen glasses, plates, etc. Those are my tasks. I need to get to them. Yet, I blog, I surf, I go into the ol’ flickr account and organize photos. I’m avoiding the packing. Five weeks to go. Five weeks on Thursday. Not many weekends left until the big Uhaul leaves the town of Scappoose and heads east toward our new home in Urbana, IL.
I’m excited for the future… for the change, the adventure, the new life moments created with our grandson and the kids, the pups, and each other. I’m very excited about all of that. I’m excited about living in and decorating a new house, about planting new flowers, about riding our bikes and walking around a new town. I’m excited for the friends we will make and the times we will have.
It’s just that I don’t want to pack… not right now. Not right now I don’t. It’s raining outside and dreary on this not so sunny Oregon summer day. The dogs are asleep on their beds here in the office. My honey is working away… hard and with purpose. In command of her job and what she does so well. I’m listening to her type and talk on the phone and be in charge. It’s impressive. Weston snores occasionally and the little girlie changes positions every now and then. They look up at us hopefully every so often thinking maybe if I look at you and then at my ball and then at you again I will get you to play with me. Will you? I say to them… later babies. I promise. And we will.
I was sitting here this morning doing my usual routine… drink some tea, have a bagel, check my email, Facebook, Google Reader… and I heard it. The tell tale sound of Weston opening the closet door and rummaging through the shred box. By the time I responded, which was actually pretty quickly, with my usual…. Weston, NO, get out of there, he had a piece of paper and was making for the hills. Or in his case, more accurately, I should say his chair. He looked up at me and then, miraculously, dropped the paper. Riley, our little girlie, just stayed in her bed the whole time looking at both of us like we were lame idiots. She doesn’t play those games.
It made me think about them… our little lovelies. They are so different, in almost every way save one, they sort of look alike. And even that likeness has diminished as Riley aged and became more silver than dark gray. They are beauties. But then… we love them. And love might not even be a strong enough word for it…. but it’s all I’ve got.
Weston… He is the oldest, so he gets first billing. He’s our poet. Our feeling gent. He is ruled by emotion, no matter what kind, and acts on it purposefully and sometimes impulsively… or compulsively. He loves people and wants attention and love constantly. Always looking at you with those deep feeling eyes full of soul and pawing or nosing for a quick pet. He’s a bit of a two personality guy… taken away from his mother at too young an age (not our choice but the breeder’s, who was wanting to get out of the puppy business and did it too soon) he suffers from not enough discipline when he was young. We tried, but we weren’t his mamma and though he is ultra smart (sometimes the bane of our existence) he is equally as stubborn. He will look at you, know he’s being told no, and still do whatever it is he’s doing. Which mostly consists of being a thief of the highest caliber. We’ve tried every form of discipline we’ve researched and though he responds best to being ignored for a time (he loves us you see and doesn’t like to be left out), he still won’t give in. Stubborn. A stubborn, very very smart thief. He’s magic at it. He can get things off countertops… standing on his little hind legs, using his paw to reach up over where he can’t really see that well, pull something over to the edge, then grab it with his teeth. He opens closets doors, drawers, tips over trash cans, and jumps up in any chair that’s left out. It’s hilarious… and sometimes aggravating. We don’t really care. In the moment you get mad at him, but then you think about all the cunning and planning and skill and you have to laugh. His best, yet worst, thieving experience was when he opened a pocked in a backpack that was fully zipped closed, got out a bag of chocolate, and ate it all. This is always what we worry about the most… that he will thieve something bad for him. He tends to eat what he steals so you can’t get it from him. He’s swallowed ear plugs, numerous kleenex, napkins, food of all kinds, q-tips… the list goes on. The chocolate was the worst. We called the vet and had to pour (to his great displeasure) some hydrogen peroxide down him to get him to throw it all up. We did… and he did… all over the bathroom floor. Yuck… but we were happy because he was safe. He’s incorrigible. And his feelings run deep. He looks at you, as he’s flipping over onto his back and opening up his legs to get a good pet, with eyes that speak volumes. Not all dogs are like this… but he is. He’s the most feeling dog I’ve ever seen. It’s amazing, the soul that pours from his eyes to yours. Very expressive. Very sweet. Very deep and full of love. He’s our boy. Our little mister. Our Woodsy (as Karen calls him).
Riley… our little girl. She is a spitfire. Confident in every way save one. She’s afraid of the oven. It’s true. The minute the oven goes on, she makes haste to the family room and the back of the sectional that’s furthest from the door up to the kitchen. She hates the oven. We know it’s because it used to (before we unplugged this particular one) set off the smoke alarm. We have another nearby that isn’t as sensitive and has stayed plugged in…. have to be safe and all. When the oven door used to be opened, no matter what we were cooking in there, it set off this particular smoke detector… and the girlie hated it. That isn’t a strong enough word. Her ears are very sensitive…. we think it’s because her vision isn’t good. So even now, with the detector not going off every time, when the oven gets turned on she makes for the other room. She’s smart too… knows what that oven going on could mean. And she doesn’t like it. It’s cute and sad at the same time as she lays out there, a tiny ball, quivering. It’s the only time she seems afraid. Otherwise she’s a little ball of confidence, all ten pounds of her. She knows who she is and owns her space. Her little strut, and I will call it a strut, is so cute. Head held high, barking occasionally at anyone or anything she feels like, jumping up to put her front paws over her brother’s back to show she’s in charge. Confident. She’s sometimes loud, barking crazy-like whenever we get home, or someone comes over, or she thinks she hears someone outside. But it’s her… loud, confident, and so very cute. She’s chalk full of personality… playing like a cat likes to play, spinning around, hardly able to contain all the energy inside her little body. Yes, she sometimes tries to jump up (and she’s a fantastic jumper… so high for the size of her little self) up onto the couch or a chair and misses… her eyes again, not working as well as they should for depth… but she doesn’t let it stop her. Bouncing off the furniture only to immediately jump up again. She has moxy. She’s full of it. If only the rest of us could have half the confidence she possesses in her little self… fantastic.
And that’s them… our little cuties. So many nicknames… the boy, the girlie, riles, ri-ri, girlie cutie, wooser, woodsie, westenheimer, riley-roosey… it goes on and on. Whatever we happen to call them they are a big part of the joy in our lives. We love our little schnoodles. We also spoil the crap out of them… they eat great for them food, which we mix up, they have special beds all over the place, we buy them bones and bullies and toys, we take them for walks when it’s sunny (they hate the rain), we built up a really nice dog run/area at the back of our house including their own little door for going in and out with a gate we lock when we leave so that no one can accidentally let them out, we play ball (for Weston) and tug (for Riley) in the house when we can’t take them out for walks, and we love on them… all the time. It’s all so worth it because they are precious… they love us and bring us immense delight.