Lobster On My Shoulder …

February 11, 2022 … Friday afternoon

It’s sunny and 46 degrees out which means only one thing in mid-February in the NW … I have to get outside and take a walk with the dog!

This is a piece I wrote for the island magazine (omg – 7 years ago! How time flies!) … Enjoy!

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In a few days Cupid’s arrows will shoot through the air and countless hopeful/hopeless romantics will have their day. I love Valentine’s Day. I don’t know if it stems from my extreme fondness of all things pink and red, or my love of everything shiny, glittery, or lacy, or that I just love that people have “an excuse” to express their adoration.

Whatever the reason, I love it— and that I, too, am one of those romantics doesn’t hurt, either.

VIt is the time of year when gloom seems to reign and a bit of glittery pink and red is welcome amidst whatever winter might be bringing

Who doesn’t like Valentine’s Day?

I remember, as a child in school, the excitement of decorating our tissue boxes for the Big Day. I couldn’t wait for all those sweet and cheesy love notes! Apparently, the apple didn’t fall far from my family tree. My grandmother, born in 1903, saved her Valentines from year to year and then stuffed the whole lot into her decorated box leaving her classmates imagining that she was the most popular kid amongst them! Perhaps not the most popular, but surely the most cunning!

When I was little, an elderly neighbor dropped off a Valentine for me…it was one of those cards (in the early ‘60s) that was a cut-out of an animal with fuzzy “fur” on it. Inside was a little cellophane bag of red hot candies. It was probably my first Valentine from someone other than family and I felt so very special. I owe old Mrs. Wisniewski for the early pitter-pattering of my heart.

LA few years later, I entered a contest for the best homemade Valentine at our local grocery store. I used a shirt box, gold and red doilies, a ream of construction paper, and a vat of glue and glitter. I won first place! Woohoo … and my prize? An inflatable plastic bull! Whatever that had to do with Valentine’s Day I have yet to figure out, but hey—I won! With that win my creative and inner artist came ever more alive and Valentine’s Day, for me, was never the same ever again.

I love Valentine’s Day because you get to be a child again—you have reason to get out the glitter and glue, you can write an entire love letter using only candy conversation hearts—and then your intended can eat it, and because everyone has the opportunity to profess their adoration, via simple or grand gestures and indulgences that on any other day might seem nonsensical or overly extravagant.

Or maybe I’m just a sentimental soul for all things LOVE.

Tolstoy said, “Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love.”

NECCO said, “I C U R A Q T.”

Some people think that Valentine’s Day is one of those “Hallmark” holidays manufactured by the greedy business owners of flower and candy shops portraying love by dollars spent and fueling consumerism and commercialism, striking guilt into the heart of people who forget, causing arguments amongst those who don’t buy into the whole “holiday” and heartache for the forgotten or unattached.

I’ve seen my share of jewelry store ads this week; I know commercialism and consumerism revolve around this holiday. And yet, I don’t seem to mind. I say, “Bring it on!” I am tickled with the thought of a holiday that honors all that is love and romance and matters of the heart whether man-made, natural or store-bought.

HI have no problem whatsoever with heart-shaped boxes of candy, red ribbon-tied boxes of lingerie, or anything homemade. If it comes from the heart, how can you not love that?

But how, you may ask, did Valentine’s Day come about? Read on.

Saint Valentine’s Day (according to my online sources and a very fragile 1910 encyclopedia) is a holiday observed on February 14^th honoring one or more of the Christian martyrs named (yep)…Saint Valentine.

There are three renditions of how this all started. In the first story, Saint Valentine was persecuted as a Christian, and after Roman Emperor Claudius II failed to convert him to paganism and Saint Valentine failed to convert the Emperor to Christianity, he was executed. However, before his demise, he performed a miracle and restored the sight of the jailor’s blind daughter. That story isn’t exactly romantic nor does it make me want to get out my construction paper and doilies and start making hearts.

The second rendition comes closer to providing a connection with romantic love. Here we have Roman Emperor (Claudius II again) ruling the lands. Seeking to expand his army, he allegedly ordered that all young men remain single, believing that married men did not make good soldiers. In steps good old Saint Valentine—herald of conversation-heart candies and singing telegrams (not really)—who in defiance of the edict and in the name of love, married the young men to their betrothed. When the Emperor found this out he was not pleased and threw Saint Valentine into jail…and soon thereafter had him beheaded. This also does not make me want to get out the glitter and glue and red, shiny heart stickers or eat chocolate-covered cherries.

Version three has Saint Valentine, for whatever reason, in jail. On the eve of his execution he (got out the glitter, glue, red and shiny heart stickers, construction paper, and doilies) and made the first-ever “Valentine” card. He sent it to the jailor’s lovely daughter, signing it “From Your Valentine,” leaving her with his heart for all eternity and (apparently) opening up the gates for the modern-day greeting card industry!

Oh, I just love a good story!

So, whatever version you like, we owe it to Saint Valentine’s devotion to love for this lovely little holiday and the excuse to eat one’s weight in chocolate … always that much better from a heart-shaped box.

Share the versions of the stories; if you really want to impress your love, recite the real poem stating that roses are red and violets are blue. It dates back to 1784 and was found in a collection of English nursery rhymes in Gammer Gurton’s Garland:

The rose is red, the violet’s blue. The honey’s sweet, and so are you.

Thou art my love and I am thine: I drew thee to my Valentine.

The lot was cast and then I drew, and Fortune said it shou’d be you.

Any holiday that promotes showing your love to someone else and eating candy all day long is a good day! Those that truly balk at this holiday, I figure, just need more chocolate!

So, make it special. Give a kid a Valentine, stuff your neighbor’s mailbox full of hearts and candies, smile at a stranger, give yourself flowers, write a poem, hold hands with someone you love, go eat some mussels or pop some champagne! 

You still have a few days to come up with something extra special for your someone special (plan a walk or picnic, get or pick floral anything, buy or cook up some chocolate, purchase or share a special piece of jewelry, plan a day at a museum or gallery, dine at your favorite restaurant, opt for a tour, class offerings or concerts) … or stay closer to home and make it a special DIY date. Go ahead, on this one day, unleash your inner Cupid!

And if nothing else comes to mind…you can always get out the glitter and glue.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

February 4, 2022 ~ Friday evening (balmy/NOT raining/periwinkle skies in the NW)

I had every intention of writing about Groundhog Day … but, it came and went and even if we don’t have much of a winter in these parts, I was NOT happy with the prognosticator of prognosticator’s meteorological prediction of six more weeks of winter. It made me grumpy and not feel like writing. Stupid rodent. He’s so cute – but what does he know?! But, then, my son told me of another groundhog (Staten Island Chuck in NY, not Punxsutawney Phil in PA) who has predicted an early spring. I guess I shouldn’t rely on weather predicting rodents – all I’d need to do is just look around when I was out on my walks. Our daffodils are a good 5″ up already. The rhodies have big, fat buds. Some of the bushes along my cliff walk have leaf buds and on some hydrangea bushes, the leaves are already unfurling. Yep – I’d say an early spring is on its way.

For the last few days I’ve had something nagging on me … my body/my brain/the universe … all saying to me, “Pay attention!”

My body hurts … yes, arthritis … but suppose if I actually listened to it? How much better would I feel? My teeth have suddenly become overly sensitive … same thing. So, I’m trying to pay better attention … to myself and my surroundings … being more mindful. Heedful, thoughtful, receptive.

Yesterday I went out with Annie for a walk, late in the afternoon. It was later than we had started out in a while – still somewhat light out: nearly twilight/no gray skies or clouds to be seen – just perfectly periwinkle. Nice. I’ll take periwinkle over gray any day! I take these walks to get out of my head/move my body/sort out whatever is on my mind. I take in what I can and more often than not, I do pay attention to what is around me. But, sometimes I get lost in thought or I’m looking down to avoid the dips and puddles … but it’s nicer when I notice the flower buds and emergences; the tiny buds that are so early, the old berries still holding tightly to the naked branches and the multitude of deer and bunnies at every step. As we walked down the road I was lucky enough to see a pair of bald eagles flying back to their nest – homeward bound. They soared over our heads, making me spin around and watch as they glided into the giant pine 20 feet from me and 60 feet above. Back to their nest for the night. I’d love to know how big they are if standing next to me – wings outstretched – because even 60 feet overhead, they are enormous!

For an instant, I imagined myself an air traffic controller … Ground to Eagle 1 – you are cleared to land in the treetops on roadway Noblecliff, Pine #9. That is Pine Niner. Copy. Eagle 2 – circle ’round. Over and out. They took my directions flawlessly. I watched in awe as they both just glided in – wings spread wide out; I could see their feathers ruffling.

It reminded me of when I was in the south; I was driving down some road and off to my left in the side gully was a circle of vultures! No lie! It was amazing! I’d never seen one in person – and there must have been ten or more! It was so creepy and exciting! I slowed the car and did a U-turn and drove back towards them and parked not too far from the group. (A group of vultures is called a wake; seems appropriate.) I sat there watching them – busily eating some roadkill that had been tossed to the side. They reminded me of a circle of witches over a bubbling cauldron (adding an eye of newt … or in this case, an eye of rabbit) … their black, feathered robes draped around their hunched (amazingly tall and big) bodies … bent on whatever was before them for lunch. It was gruesome but I was so glad I saw that and that I was paying attention!

Today I had the walrus (Annie) in the back of Gus (my Fiat) and we were zipping around running some errands. This time for more dog meds; it’s like a pharmacy over here! I was first at the stop light waiting for the green arrow to turn left onto the highway and as the light changed, I looked to my right and watched a guy in some beat up old SUV go barreling through the red light. He actually waved at me as he did so. What!? Glad one of us was paying attention.

As I turned into the hardware store parking lot there were some people brandishing “Let’s Go, Brandon” signs and flags and other signs stating their dislike for mandates and masks and a very large “F” Joe Biden flag on the back of someone’s truck. Well, if they can voice their opinions, I thought I would, too. So, I opened up my sunroof and gave them all “the finger” as I drove by. Sadly, they thought I was supporting them! I wanted to go back and tell them that the gesture was meant for THEM. But, it wasn’t worth my time.

Today was another perfectly perfect November day, again … but this time in February! Our weather belies the seasons. And, thusly, I never seem to be in the correct one! I’m still thinking I should be seeing pumpkins on front porch steps even though my house is now adorned with all things Valentine! Annie and I left the house at 5pm … still “light” out (not daylight but not dark) … and without rain or clouds, it was lovely. It’s been so cold and raw lately, that today felt almost balmy. We stepped out on the deck and before we were even in the road, woodsmoke wrapped around us and … oh my! It was heavenly! (That’s the best thing about my neighbor – she burns good wood!) We walked, again, towards town (it’s a shorter walk for the dog; any further and I practically have to carry her up the steps once home!) and I looked up in time to see the same two eagles flying to their nest – AGAIN! I heard their tell-tale high pitched whistle-speak. It was wonderful to see them coming back to their pine.

The sky was a light, soft lilac when we were on the road. I closed my eyes, willing myself to imagine breathing in the scent of an armful of lilacs; my favorites that won’t make their appearances for another three months … but a little car was putt-putting along as I closed my eyes and I got lungs full of exhaust fumes, instead! Oh well; I’ll have to wait a bit longer for the flower scents! I’ll keep my nose in check and keep my eyes on the skies. Further along our walk the sky turned to periwinkle again … and by the time we arrived back home, it was a deep cobalt. What this island lacks … of all things … beauty is not one of them. I will miss this serenity.

And so, I’m home. The dogs are fed. I’ve got a pot of soup on the stove. And, I’m going to do some stretches before I sit down and watch something on TV. See body? I’m listening. What a nice couple of walks lately and as I go forward, in all things, because life is so much better then … I’ll make sure that I pay attention.

January 23, 2022 ~ Sunday early evening (cold/gray/foggy in the NW)

It’s one of those days when I felt like doing nothing. And that’s pretty much what I did! Mission accomplished!

I just took granola out of the oven – first attempt at homemade (so damn easy/and so good)! It smells like a bakery in here. Yum.

Annie was giving me the ol’ puppy eyeballs earlier and so we went out for a walk. We just went down to the corner and back … half a mile or so … and got at least some steps in for me/some sniffs in for her. I was pretty sure I froze my butt off … but, nope, got home and there is was still – right behind me. Darn it anyway! My fingers, however, were lost along the way and I arrived home with icicles in their place. I don’t do well with cold. I never really did but after nearly 8 years here … I’ve turned into a NW Wimp!

It’s been another week of too much news … too much angst and disappointment. So, I did what I like to do to get away from reality – I read. I’m a cozy reader. Not that I’m cozy – which I usually am – but that is what the books I read are characterized as … “a cozy read”. Light/easy/fluff. And who doesn’t like a good fluff read now and then?

I read a variety of genres but mostly biographies, historical fiction, and mysteries. And those mysteries are usually (light) murder mysteries … nothing gross or gory. I like the books with a female lead (usually) who owns her own business (scrapbook, candy, tea, antique or book store, beauty salon or doggy daycare) and said heroine is exceptionally gifted in the art of sleuthing. The murders usually have to do with a n’er do well who ended up in a swamp, down a well, poisoned, or stuffed into the wall of an old house. Think Colonel Mustard in the drawing room with a candlestick type of murder. No blood. No guts. No evil. Just a dead body mentioned once or twice. I especially like when the books are visual and descriptive and when they take place in the South … all that dripping Spanish moss and those high society parties!

Nothing can take me away from the political/Covid/weather/trials of daily life than steeping myself in a good book.

It sounds silly but I ration my reading. When I let myself read (because once that book is opened, I kind of forego EVERYTHING else) … I’m like an addict. Food? Sure, if I have to – maybe I’ll gnaw on a raw potato while turning the next page. Water? Only if I have to and I’ll take a sip from the faucet while washing my hands. Dogs? They’re on their own! LOL. Well, I’m not that bad … but have been known to tell myself as I crawl into bed at 11pm that I’m just going to read ONE CHAPTER or for half an hour … and then it’s going on 2am and I’m still reading.

Friday night was such a night. After four nights of reading – I decided I’d just take the evening and finish off the book. One needs to know something first – I am a SLOW reader. As in a turtle could read faster than me, if a turtle could read. I think about the words … was that the best descriptor? Could that visual have been better stated/more in-depth? I re-read a paragraph if it’s especially lovely. So, yeah … slow!

Anyway … there I was cuddled in on the couch and 4 hours in and nearing the end of the book at 1:30 am. I was really tired but I wanted to finish it off. I wanted to know if I had figured it out and to get the author to wrap it all up. I finished a chapter – thinking I had about 20 pages to go and … NOPE! It had ended. The rest of the pages were a preview of another book! What the … NOOOOO! So, there I was at the end of the book but NOT at the end of the story! The author had bailed … making whomever read this book, read the next in the series. Darn it anyway!

Call me crazy, but after five nights of reading and trying to figure out “who done it” … I want the last chapter of the book to finish it all up/divulge the killer and motive/and wrap it up and deliver it all to me with a bow on it. I don’t want to have to wait FOR THE NEXT BOOK!

But, here I am. Waiting. I went online and checked the publication date and, luckily for me, said book was printed in 2014 … and the next book in the series was published a year later (and 12 more since! A prolific writer!). So, unlike the readers of that book when it first came out, I only have to wait a week or so to get the next one from my library … I don’t have to wait a year or longer like they did!

In any case … I’ll start some other book tonight. But, I’m not going to stay up until 2am reading. And, when I come to the end of it, days from now, I hope the book ends with the author wrapping things up and putting a bow on it!

January 17, 2022 (Monday night/Martin Luther King Jr. holiday)

I could go on a political rant … or musing … or pondering of some such something … but I won’t. I’m kind of sick of all of it and need a break from the on-going and exhausting voting/covid/political insanity.

So, today I decided to go through some of my old, saved files … and came upon a treasure trove of random trivia, thoughtful quips and unanswered questions.

Here is a sampling of things I’ve thought important enough to save over the years and here’s hoping they’ll give you a little laugh or something to think about:

Random Trivia: More than 40% of Australia is wilderness; the US is 5%. The average number of people airborne over the US any given hour is 500,000. It is impossible to lick your elbow. Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair. The first novel ever written on a typewriter was Tom Sawyer. While Obsession, Aquaholic, Happy Ours and Seas the Day have been popular boat names in the past … lately Social Distancing has been gaining popularity. Peanuts are one of the ingredients in dynamite. There is no Betty Rubble in the Flintstones Vitamins. Your stomach has to produce a new layer of mucus every two weeks; otherwise it will digest itself. There are 253 ways to make change for a dollar. The only food that doesn’t spoil is honey.

Thoughtful Quip: Attitude … The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude is more important than fact. It is more important than experience, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than success, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company, a home, a person. The remarkable thing is that we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past and we cannot change the fact that people will act a certain way. We cannot change the future or the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. Life is 10% what happens to a person and 90% how that person reacts to it.

Unanswered Questions: Why didn’t Tarzan have a beard? Is there ever a day when mattresses are not on sale? Why do people run over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner then reach down and pick it up/look at it/then put it back down on the floor and give the vacuum one more try at it? In winter, why do we keep the house as warm as it is in the summer when we complain about the heat? Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are getting weak? Why does someone believe when they are told there are 200 billion trillion stars in the universe but check when told that paint is wet? Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets? Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always white? And, whose brilliant idea was it to put an “s” in the word lisp?

Hoping this made you smile. And, I bet you tried to lick your elbow!

January 15th ~ Saturday (but it felt like Sunday all day/gray and foggy)

If the Creature from the Black Lagoon ever needed a vacation home ~ I’m sure he’d be able to find one out here … gray skies, deep forests, marshy bogs and swirling fog. The ideal environment to carry a damsel in distress into or out of!

It’s Saturday today. One of those days that feels so much like a Sunday and when you realize it is not, it’s like getting an added day to the weekend. Bonus! Earlier this afternoon I was out walking Annie down the cliff road and found myself half looking over my shoulder now and then to make sure some creepy fish creature wasn’t following us! The fog has that affect on me! It’s just so ethereal. It hides things … and then reveals what you didn’t know was there. It’s so fluid … and it’s kind of creepy, kind of cozy, kind of mysterious all wrapped up in cotton batting. I’ve never seen the movie (The Creature from the Black Lagoon) and am half-tempted to watch it if I can find it online tonight. But with heavy fog blanketing the house … I’m just not sure I have the guts to do it!

I still think I should hire a turtle to walk the dog … 1.5 miles in just under 50 minutes. It’s hard to get my steps in when she is SO slow! It felt like we were going 6 feet a minute but after quick calculations, we were going a speedy 165 feet a minute! Yeah – whatever, a turtle could have beaten us home!

But despite the chill (or because of it), today was one of those perfectly perfect November days. The lighting whispered November … wood smoke curled up my nose (I couldn’t see it but I sure could smell it. Lovely!) … and I could hear the eagles signaling along the cliff (an unlikely high pitched screech-whistle) but couldn’t see them until one emerged from the fog and silently glided over our heads. Amazing! I watched him circle around and disappear back into the fog at the cliff’s edge. Gone in an instant … as if I had just imagined him.

From fall to spring the landscape doesn’t change much in the forest/here on the island … evergreens, as always, are emerald. The grass is kelly green. The laurels are all a shiny deep pine. The naked trees are still bare but the rhodies already have fat buds nestled amongst their leaves. The moss is thick and bright lime. Today the tree trunks stood out against the sky like black silhouettes reaching up, up – only today to gray cotton batting (and not storm clouds or blue skies). As we walked along I noticed how quiet it was … the silence of the fog. When we’d pass one house – another one further up would come into view … peering out of the grayness. The houses more than two beyond were lost in the haze. Looking up I noticed the treetops were swallowed up but every once in a while a ghost image would appear and then be gone again.

Something about the air and the coloring and light made me feel like I should go home and simmer some cranberries or whip up some mashed potatoes! It was unusually cold/raw but it was invigorating just the same. But, I wasn’t exactly dressed for a slower than turtle speed walk and by the time we got back home my thighs were cold and I could feel the coldness emanate off me once back inside in my cozy kitchen.

And there it was … a perfect autumn day! It sure makes for a shorter winter when an autumn day comes two months late and yeah, I’ll take another November day (one of my favorite months) whenever I can get one. If water is rushing through the roadside gully, that means that there is no snow or ice and that spring is just a breath away. I’m all for that!

Our winters are short (though wet and dark) out here and I know that in a few weeks those fat buds on the rhodies and azaleas will become fatter and the willow trees will start turning more golden yellow than they already seem to be … and the two inch daffs and iris leaves pushing up through the wet dirt in my driveway garden bed will be another few inches taller. Already! And every little thing will start waking up and preparing for early spring. We’re getting lighter every day … and maybe just by one minute at a time but that’s okay! We’re on our way!

And it is even better when we get a perfectly perfect November day … in the middle of January.

January 10, 2022 ~ Monday (late afternoon/the sky is periwinkle/terminal twilight)

And so it begins … Happy New Year! I say it every year … well, yes, we all do … but this year, I really mean it. As in REALLY mean it. I hope this is a good and happy NEW year.

I was so done with 2021. I kept saying that everything wasn’t bothering me … the political strife/upset … the weather – extreme as it was … the global pandemic and it’s variations … the abnormality of life in general. But, with the onset of the new year – I became acutely aware that yeah … I was bothered. As in a LOT. Basically, I was finished with it all. Someone put a fork in me – I’m done!

So, the new year was a goal to get to … I couldn’t wait. But, so far (as in the first 10 days) this year has been a continuation of last year’s (and 2020’s) … for lack of a better word … garbage. Even if I say it with a French twist … gar-baaj … it sounds nicer but really doesn’t make it any better. I think that since those years had so much sh*t going on – there has been an overflow of excess crap into this year. I’m giving it through the weekend to finalize the spillage. And then I will be saying Happy New Year – anew! Hopefully the Hazmat teams can go home!

I’m vaxed and boosted/wear double masks so it looks like I’m performing surgery/keep my distance/wash my hands and sanitize to the hilt/etcetera … etcetera … etcetera … as I’ve been doing for nearly 2 years now. However, I’m still wary. I have a feeling we’ll all get the variant at some time or another … but honestly, I don’t want this virus! I have been a textbook case 3x in my life and I am always the one that doctors look at and shake their heads and say they’d never seen such and such before in person – only in text. I don’t want a baby arm to grow out of my neck from a side effect of the Omicron or future variant … cuz I know I’d be the one! Those doctors would all be looking at me, shaking their heads and muttering that they’d never seen this before!

It took me four extra days, nine delayed or canceled flights, missing the shuttle, a night in the airport, a delayed ferry, and slip-sliding along icy and snow-packed island roads (we got 9″!) to get from Denver to my home after Christmas. I’m a little leery of traveling again any time soon. And with the virus ramping up – again – I don’t really want to but my mom is 93 (this weekend) and I’m just feeling like I need to. So, I will … but I might look more like the mummy in transit than a surgeon.

Last week I was at the grocery store and caught myself telling the cashier that I couldn’t hear her because of my mask. I realized how stupid that sounded as the mask wasn’t over my ears obstructing my hearing. It’s just how this body works.

I remember when I used to wear glasses (thank you cataract surgery) … if you wanted me to hear something, I had to make sure I had my glasses on. Isn’t the impairment of one sense supposed to keen the others? Not so with me! So, if I should see you out somewhere or in the airport and I don’t respond – it’s not personal – it’s because I have two masks on and I didn’t hear you!

It’s been a weird month. I have to rehome Annie, my lab, as she’s showing aggression to other dogs. She needs to be a one and only and I’m heartbroken over it. She is so lovely (with humans) … my big baby walrus. I’ve cried a lot over this dog. Bea, is good, but had a massive seizure the other night … not totally unexpected as she’s about 300 in human years! She is ancient but still tootling around – my little hedgehog dog. And, there has been a mass exodus from the island amongst my friends. My good friend and his sweet golden moved to Southern CA … other dog parents/friends relocated to Bend … another couple and their pup just transferred to Tucson and another couple just bought a house in NH. All good friends. All I can say is, it was my idea first! No fair! I’m hoping my time will come sooner than later.

It rained again today (why am I not surprised?) … welcome to January/winter in the NW. But, at least the snow is gone. No one owns a shovel up here – so, a dustpan does the job … but with a lot more bending over! We’ve been getting (so they say) lighter for a month now – our solstice arrives around the 12th of December and then we start adding on a minute of (so called) daylight every day. So, by the New Year – we were some 15 minutes lighter than the darkest day. And here we are almost two weeks in, with more minutes adding daily to our total hours of daylight and I’m still feeling like I am living in a cave. Terminal twilight. Gray/gloomy/wet and darkness clearing by morning (well, LATE morning). But, it’s green. If it weren’t for that snow – I’d still have flowers blooming! Crazy. It’s a far cry from warmer, so brown and dry CO.

So, with the turning of the calendar page to January … what do I wish for in this new year?

I always have the expected staples … love, laughter, good health, good friends, financial stability, and fulfillment for everyone I know. But, honestly, that is what I wish for.

But, I also wish for solace for this country. I wish for truth and regard; for respect and integrity. Somewhere along the way those values have been lost (by too many). I wish for honesty, openness and compromise. I wish for the Golden Rule … for if people were to treat others how they’d like to be treated – I truly believe that so much would be different/better.

I also wish instead of people spending zillions (actually, upward of $450,000 per person) to have a seat into space – they’d donate those funds so local children have enough to eat … that teachers earn an above living wage … that they’d donate elsewhere rather than for personal folly. I wish that those whose bodies are frail and feeble and aging are eased of their pain and that they find comfort from their loneliness. And I wish people would wake up and realize we are all in this together … and that things are not going too well … and that unity is healing.

I’m also wishing that Mom Nature backs off a bit … that people come to terms with climate issues … that this pandemic abates and normalcy (whatever that is anymore) will be normal once again.

And, of course, drawing on the inner untitled beauty queen in me … I wish for world peace.

And so it begins …

December 12, 2021 ~ early Sunday morning

I am one who cherishes the journey ~ whatever it may be. The destination is great to get to but the journey is the thing that matters … it’s to be savored, enjoyed, learned from and remembered.

But, with 19 days until the New Year … I just want it here. Right now, I’m all about the destination. If I skipped Christmas this year, that would be okay with me if it got me to the start of the new year sooner.

Stupid, I know.

But, I’m weary. I think we’re all a bit weary. It’s late in the year … and it’s been a year and then some. And the gray/cold/raininess/early darkness and continued bad news (on a daily basis) don’t help at all. I had lunch with a good friend today and she said she was tired. And I had to agree with her. It’s not just the fatigue from every day stuff or a bad night’s sleep … but from the past 5 years of … LIFE. For non-Trumpers the Trump era was lousy. And that political craziness continues to make it so. I don’t think I know anyone who can honestly say it hasn’t been exhausting – all this political strife … uncertainty … the Covid conundrum … social unrest … mass shootings … extreme weather … life in general.

I love a clean slate. It gets to be about this time every year (maybe a bit later/like the 27th … so, I’m a good two weeks early this time around) that I start getting antsy for the calendar to turn to January. A do-over … a clean page … so many possibilities … such promise! And, like always, that’s what I am expecting for 2022. But, I’m antsy already and I just want the new year to begin!

It’s been a wearisome few years. A LOT of changes in our country and in our personal lives. My dad died in 2018 … I packed up their home/and my mother and moved her out of their long-time home and across the country. That was hard. In the middle of all that, both of my old dogs died. 2018 did not end well.

And then came 2019 … things were better … mom was settled … I was going to move to NC … things were going along (pretty) okay. I closed my long-time business and was looking forward to a new chapter. And as the year came to a close there was word that a strange virus was spreading.

And then came 2020 … it had a good ring to it … but then Covid happened. My plans to move were delayed – again. And, we all know what came next – NOTHING. Shut downs/stay at home requests/don’t go anywhere/don’t see anyone/wear a mask/socially distance. On top of a pandemic, there was too much political craziness/social unrest/etcetera … etcetera … etc! It was an onslaught of everything … and also the uneasiness of nothing. I kept my distance from everyone/including my dear older neighbors … not wanting to risk infecting them somehow – and then one died. Heartbreak all over again. But then glimmers of hope and good … a little chihuahua adopted me, Trump was dumped and Covid vaccines began.

And then we turned the page to 2021 and Covid continued to rage and spike – again … still. And, more of the same including an insurrection. Ups and downs, masks/no masks/masks again … social distancing/closures/worry/uncertainty/variants … more social unrest … more political craziness including that failed coup … you name it. And then a sweet old lab came into my life. But, above everything … with certainty … I can say it’s been a wild year!

And I for one – just want it over.

I hate wanting to push ahead and just “get there” as I have friends and family to see/enjoy … holidays to cherish and make memories from … things to experience … people to love and share life with. And yet … I am antsy and just. want. this. year. over.

I need that new clean slate … I need that calendar page to turn … I need the promise of change and possibilities in ALL things. I need to believe that this journey – while full of lessons, joys, celebrations, love, friendships, rewards, challenges and hardships – will be calmer/better/easier a mere 19 days from now. In this new year … I’m hoping for less craziness. More intelligence and understanding. Less angst. Less worry. Less fear. More laughter. More patience and peace. And far less weariness.

I know that going forward will ultimately lead us to our destinations … whatever/wherever they may be. But I also hope that we are less wearisome on the journey getting there.

I am … looking forward.

November 29th, 2021 ~ Monday evening (Covid/variants still a thing … closer to home this time … political chaos … wild weather)

Evening came early today … I looked up from what I was doing at half past three and realized my day was nearly gone. I took one look at Annie, lying on the rug in the den … gave her a silent nod and away we went … out for a walk along the cliff. I knew if we didn’t do it then – we wouldn’t do it.

Unbeknownst to most of my friends and family, November is my favorite month of the year. There is no glitter and glam, decking the halls, or wrestling of wrapping paper like in December … and no trick or treaters to watch out for at the end like in October … it’s a quiet month of gratitude and woodsmoke and Mother Nature tucking her world in for the winter.

I used to have squirrels in abundance here – before I had so many dogs on a daily basis (they got wise!) … but lately, I’ve been putting out peanuts for my furry friends (only in the day or the rats get them!) and I have a couple who come to visit and gather. If no nuts are out, the squirrel will sit on my deck railing looking into the dining room with those imploring eyes … begging me, “Please sir, I’d like MORE!” All my squirrels are now named Oliver!

I love watching them scamper away … sometimes they’ll stop by the violet circle out front and dig a little hole and drop said peanut into it and then pat the dirt down over it. I love watching them do that. It’s just so sweet. I’m sure they don’t remember they’ve just left a tasty morsel in the ground, two steps over from the garden frog keeping watch over the shaded garden patch … from all the peanuts I’ve dug up when gardening, I certainly think they do not remember! But I love watching them, hunched over, their question-mark tails behind them twitching. We have native squirrels (brown) and then “brought in ones” (gray – people have a fit over them) and some chipmunks. I like them all. More peanuts for everyone!

November is a peaceful month … one of deep blue-gray skies and quiet steel seas. It is emerald green lawns and a proliferation of autumnal flowers that I don’t know names of but that doesn’t stop them from blooming. The tree trunks, limbs and branches are dark against the sky and greenery and it’s all just so pretty. The sheep are nibbling away in the meadows – their shorn little bodies white or black against all that greenery.

And this year it came and went in the blink of an eye. I was gone until the 1st … and all of a sudden we are saying hello to December. Today was our first walk all month – how can that be?

I had that nasty virus (non-covid) and wasn’t feeling up to walking … then it was raining and I was busy building an ark (just in case) and then it was too windy or too raw or too dark or too all of the above. And then there was today … a break in the rain and not yet dark and away we went on our familiar journey.

We had another wind storm over the weekend (resulting in another 15 hours of power lost) … and branches scattered here and there, littering yards and driveways, stuck hanging on overhead wires. I passed several trees where limbs were dangling – not quite completely severed – I felt like I should have taken my clippers with me to relieve their stress.

Annie is a slow walker. As in a S.L.O.W. walker. I keep thinking of hiring a turtle to walk her … but then I’d miss out on our moseying. Nose to the soggy ground (hers not mine) we went down and back … admiring the new landscaping at the new house (beautiful!) … noticing that the Madrona tree must have gotten a good trimming (by Mom Nature and/or the tree company) – either way, it looked happier/lighter. The deer were out in the meadow … I wonder if they ever get dry these days. I would hate (so much) always feeling wet. The horse property with the barn that I love so much is putting in a new drainage field … big diggers dot their property and their pasture has long troughs dug out of the deep green grass.

The roadside ditches are brimming with run-off … we’ve had so much rain lately. We are completely saturated. I watch the water moving along and then hear the gully washing in the random drains along the road … gurgle gurgle swish. Further down there is a little creek bed that is nary a trickle at times but it’s cutting a path to the cliff from the forest. I don’t dare get anywhere near the edge – the ground is so unstable – being so wet – but I hear the water spilling over the edge and am sure there is a waterfall somewhere along that cliffside. I wish I were in a boat sometimes to see the cliff walls and know what they look like from that perspective.

On our way home the scent of woodsmoke curls up my nose and it is exquisite.Why does burning wood smell SO good? And what kind of wood is that person burning in their wood stove? Heavenly! Due to that, even though I’m wet and kind of cold, I’m cozy. It’s far balmier than expected – almost springlike – but there’s a chilly dampness that just permeates everything.

We arrived back home and I resumed putting away my fall decs and all things turkey. I put my autumnal decs up almost 90 days ago … how could that be? Early Sept … and here we are … tucking my treasures away for another day – just like that little brown squirrel. (But, unlike that critter, I’ll remember where I put my things!)

Thanksgiving has come and gone. I always think of the pair of wild turkeys that were warbling under my window a few Thanksgivings ago. I woke to the strangest sound and couldn’t figure out what it was … I thought perhaps an injured animal was in my yard. I looked out of my bedroom window and there by the fence were Tom and his mate (what do you call a female turkey? Henrietta? Trudy? Lurkey?) … gobbling away in my yard. They were my neighbor’s … and probably due to be dinner at some point. I went out and let them out of my yard through the front gate and whispered to them to, “FLY! FLY – my pretties!” I never felt more like the Wicked Witch of the West ever! I didn’t hang around to see if they made it home or heeded my advice but that was a random, very cool thing … and on Thanksgiving!

I’ll finish wrapping up my pumpkins and fall leaves, wreaths and autumnal what-not. I hate to see it go back into the bins. But, glam and glitter wait for no one!

Good-bye November … see you next year!

November 12, 2021 ~ Friday morning (gray/foggy/drippy, raining like crazy; day 15 of nasty virus/non-Covid)

It’s one of those perfectly perfect November days … if you like fog, rain and gloom that is.

It just so happens that I do. Not all the time, mind you, but on days (like today) when the universe presents a perfectly gloomy/wet day … it’s lovely.

I’m in my living room, a pretty cup of hot tea with honey within reach, at my desk facing out the big picture window to my neighbor’s property. Their home is empty (except for 2 weekends a year) but well maintained. The green metal roof glistens when wet and is a nice contrast again the rustic dark brown shake shingle siding and the stone driveway. Some bush is all aflower – big, white blossoms – and plenty of evergreens and grasses abound and make for a very pretty scene. Their yard also holds the most gorgeous burnt orange and deep raspberry colored leaved trees … there are two of them nestled amidst more evergreens and their graceful limbs reach out over the cedar fencing towards the road. It’s really very picturesque. I’m so lucky this is what I look onto. Beyond the house and extended (double lot) lawn to the left of my home, is another … tucked back in the forest amongst so many pines! I can only see their lights on … so, it’s like looking out towards a little gnome home. So cozy/so hygge! Further down is the darling red box house, also with metal roofing … which is surrounded by greens, huge pine trees (I cannot see their tops from here) and a tree of mustard leaves. I see all that out my other picture window to my left.

Behind my neighbor’s home (straight ahead) is an old barn of a house with a lovely cupola on top and a weather vane and turbine. The roof line has disappeared in the mist and it’s mystical in the fog. Closer to my window is my dinner plate maple whose branches are nearly bare sans the whirlybird pods that never dried or dropped – maybe still? The rusts and deep golds mingle with a few lime greens and the furry emerald moss and sage lichen on the branches … the brown seed pods cling tightly … the limbs are black-gray (where not fuzzy green). I have the window open a crack so I can hear the rain … steady as it goes … trickling away or giving the earth a good drink. The grass will be eight inches before I know it with all this rain … leaving me to think I’ll need one more pass with the mower before winter.

Whenever I leave here, I will miss my views.

I have ten (10) dogs here today – only one is a day-sit. All the others are over-nighters. What a fun pajama party we’ll have tonight! No one would ever know I have any dogs here as all of them are sleeping or lying about my feet/legs/desk. I am in good company. I have a golden, a standard (15 yr old/yesterday) poodle and Annie, my lab. Everyone else is old and small … chihuahuas, an Italian greyhound, a terrier, a schnauzer, and a cocker … my Bea being the oldest/smallest. I’ve got a candle lit and it smells like autumn. I’ve got my favorite gray sweater on and I don’t think I could get much cozier … unless I was tucked in bed under my fluffy comforter! I might have to do that later!

This all brings me to feeling nostalgic and a little melancholic … and perhaps a bit wistful.

For whatever reasons, today reminds me of when I was a kid and I’d go walking through the forest preserves with my Dad. We must have gone on Sundays as I remember coming home and mom would have a baked chicken dinner waiting. So yummy! Nothing better than coming in from the cold to the smell of roasting chicken and warmth. Nice! We must have had chicken on other nights – but this always reminds me of being a Sunday. The woods would be empty (except for us) and the usual dirt paths would be littered with fallen leaves … reds, pinks, yellows, rusts … I hardly looked up on those walks – eyes on the prize/the foliage at my feet.

It probably was a combination of their beauty and my poor eyesight that made me look 3 feet down rather than 30 feet up! I loved that time alone with my dad … walking in the woods – just us and the dachshunds. I miss those walks. I miss my dad.

I have three visitors in my yard …. a doe and her twins. The babies are getting almost as big as mama now. They are out munching away in the grass – nibbling on whatever is tasty. They hear something and all three tails go straight up – revealing their white underside. Alert! Alert!

Today also reminds me of one of my many sick days as a kid. I don’t know how I got through elementary school … I was never there! I was always home or in the hospital – sick with something or other. And not just your run of the mill virus or slight infection … I had textbook stuff. Osteomyelitis … gastroenteritis … ear infection after ear infection … mastoiditis/mastoidectomy … staph aureus … you name it, it was mine. I don’t know how my parents did it – all the worry – let alone the cost! I think back and I’d been in the hospital three times/one surgery by the time my parents were 35. Crazy. A lot of responsibility and worry to heap on young parents!

While home bound/bed bound I colored a LOT. Crayons (Crayola, of course) still bring me an inner peace – just opening up a box of them can bring me such bliss! They smell sooo good! (My neighbor invented the sharpener on the back of the box of 64!) I always had some sweet neighbor kid bring my homework home and I’d do that and I had extra workbooks (which I still love/wish there were some for adults/maybe that’ll be my next project!). I had a mess of coloring books and I’d color everything – even the backgrounds. My favorite was a one of the Flintstones … I loved coloring their fur dresses and the chunky jewelry that Wilma and Betty wore. Ha ha. I think back on that and wonder why that made such an impression on me?! I also read a ton … by the time I was in third grade I’d read and pretty much knew by heart all the Little House books. Ma, Pa, Laura, etc were my extended family! I was also the recipient of many get well cards from my classmates. I was always the reason for a good art project/quiet time for any teacher! And what did I do with them? I graded and edited them, of course! The guys that bugged me all flunked … big F– in red crayon on their cards … misspellings all circled three times! The girls who could draw well – usually troll dolls – got A+++. I still have those.

It’s probably also from this time that my love of rye toast came into play. I remember lying on our couch – under a ceramic elephant head-handled, red umbrella (it was raining outside) – watching Captain Kangaroo and being as pleased as any sick kid could be … munching on rye toast and being oh-so cozy!

I hope I thanked my parents for taking good care of me as a youngster. If not – thanks mom and dad!

One of the Christmases when I couldn’t go outside (due to whatever ailment had taken over my body at that time), I wasn’t allowed to go on a nighttime walk with the family to go see the neighborhood lights. But, that was okay by me … we had five in our family/I shared a room with my older sister … and rarely was there just ME (my mom was somewhere in the house/probably cleaning up something) – alone. I remember being in the living room with the tree all lit up and pretty and it was so quiet. So nice. There was snow outside and that absorbed all the outside noises – nature’s muffler. That year I got a Tressy doll … akin to Barbie but BETTER! I look back and think I should have gone into hair design as I was always fascinated by hair! I’ve mentioned this doll in another blog – she was just the best! She had a button on her stomach that when pushed in/you could pull her pony tail out of the top of her head and her pony tail would reach nearly her ankles! Rapture! My own Rapunzel! And there was a tiny T shaped key that you’d stick in her back and wind the hair back into the body cavity (seems gruesome and kind of Frankenstein-y now) to whatever length you wanted. It got as short as a shoulder-length flip. She looked ridiculous in a bikini with that button and key spot … but so elegant in an evening gown! Anyway – I sat in the living room and played for what seemed like hours – all by myself – putting her hair into tiny rollers and then taking them out again and changing her outfits. Best gift ever!

And speaking of best gifts … I knew I was a shopper-in-the-making even when I was young. I have and always will be a consumer. The Sears Christmas catalog would arrive and my family wouldn’t see me for days! I’d be holed up in the front hall closet (my secret hideaway) next to the vacuum cleaner/under the coats with my flashlight – reading that thing from cover to cover … oogling and drooling over all the toys (the beautician doll head – omg, fabulous) and dish sets (always my favorites) and circling one or two that I thought I’d just die without. Ah, the good ol’ days. What I wouldn’t give today for a Sears Christmas catalog. Sounds utterly delightful to sit and go through all those goodies!

Guess I’ll have to settle in and read one of my magazines, instead … Living … Yankee … Southern Living. I’m having a few friends for Thanksgiving … perhaps I’ll read up on how to make the best version of whatever I’m going to make. It’s still raining … still foggy … still a perfectly perfect November day.

November 8, 2021 ~ Monday evening

I drove up island today to have a wellness exam … you know all those women’s issues/things that you’d like to talk about, at my age, with another woman with knowledge on the subject and life experience under her (proverbial and literal) belt.

No such luck. The female doctor I scheduled with was replaced by “the new guy”. “Wasn’t I lucky?” the nurse asked me. NO – not really! I wanted a mature woman to talk to – not Doogie Howser fresh out of med school. Egad.

When I was little, we always played “nurse” and “doctor” … I was always the nurse (cuz I was a girl) and David M. (my neighbor from down the street) was always the doctor (cuz he was a boy). It was the 60s … I was young and innocent and had no idea that females could be doctors … no one told me otherwise! Anyway – we made a great medical team, David and I, doing many surgeries on stuffed animals off the fold down door of our Ford Falcon. (Why we were playing in the driveway – I have no idea!) Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if David M. actually became a real doctor … he was a brain in high school. And my thought today was … I’d rather have 5 yr old Doctor David chatting with me today than the one who was.

He talked to me like I was the most ancient human he’d ever encountered. He suggested I remove throw rugs from my home (trip hazards). I should have called him “Sonny” at that point. I asked him about hormones (he didn’t know what I meant) and weight (told me to stop “knocking back the desserts”) – that was the point when I wanted to smash his young stupid face. Soon after he actually patted my knee and told me, at 64, not to worry as I had “a lot of life left in me”. Somewhat like something he’d say to the tire salesman who was pushing a new set on him! WTF.

We’ll skip over the mortification of the breast and vaginal exams (with a stranger – guys/you have it SO damn easy!). He didn’t ask me about my sexual history – I’m sure the dust bunnies spoke for themselves!

Island medicine leaves much to be desired. But, after that horrible encounter, I stopped in at the local grocery store and got my Moderna booster. Woop dee doo and hooray for me! The doctor couldn’t help me much – but the grocery store sure did. Go figure!

Anyway – I digress. I was going to write about my yummy Starbucks and how almost navy/velvet the sky looked before it turned SO dark, SO early … (I can feel hibernation mode already descending upon me) and how I loved watching the lights of the jets as they circled the field doing their touch and go’s. The sheer volume of their engines practically had me driving off the road – they were so loud!

I was also thinking that I should have been a meteorologist as no one ever gets forecasts right and they still get paid, etc etc. But then I’d have had to change my name to Wanda or Stormy (as in Wanda the Weather Bunny or Stormy Weathers). I always thought my exit line would have been, “Darkness clearing by morning.” Except I’d have had to work somewhere other than in the NW where that’s not necessarily true. Today was a dry day – our first all month … and soon to be only for the next foreseeable future. So, darkness might not be clearing by morning as it’s going to be gray, gray, GRAY and wet, wet, WET!

And, all this was swirling in my head as I entered Walmart – cuz what up-island excursion is complete without going to the only chain store on the island (other than Safeway, fast food, Rite Aid, Ace and Walgreens)?

And that’s when I saw … HER.

She was the youngest of four kids tagging along with a disheveled man who was pushing/leaning on a cart. I’m not good with ages. Was he her father – but older/worn or perhaps her grandfather? He was pretty rough looking. She was the only girl in the group and she must have gotten distracted, leaned into him or stepped on his shoe or something as she was close to his hip … and that angered him. Whatever words he spat out from his moist and rubbery lips were full of ugliness and hurt and aimed right at her little face.

I was pushing my cart down the main aisle when they appeared. I heard him snarl “stupid” and “careless” … and I took the scene in as you would like coming upon a horrible accident. I didn’t want to look at them/yet I couldn’t look away.

She was a little waif of a thing … maybe 6? Maybe a bit older or younger – like I said, I’m not good with ages. She didn’t see me … but I certainly saw her. She was looking at him – the one putting holes into her soul – with her eyes … those big, beautiful, round eyes.

It all broke my heart. I thought I might throw up. I wanted to stop and tell him to be nice. That she was just a little girl. To have some patience. To treasure her because she was precious. But I didn’t. In this day, and certainly here where there are so many “off” people … I wouldn’t dare. I don’t need to be a headline on the nightly news about a woman being shot in a Walmart. I tried to justify not saying anything … it’s not like he HIT her … I was trying to convince myself. But, it wasn’t working and as I wheeled off … gutted by the pain I saw on that little face … all I wanted to do was go back and give her a hug and tell her that all would be okay. But would it? Because those eyes told a story that this was not the first time he spat at her, tore down her confidence, stomped on her happiness and innocence. How many times in her brief life had he already told her she was worthless? Stupid? Just a girl? How long ago had she started believing it? The invisible scars of verbal abuse aren’t known but by the ones carrying them in their hearts.

That young girl might not even know how wrong that man was in saying what he said … how ugly and damaging his words were. That, good or bad, words matter. This might have been just another day for her – where this was “normal”. I don’t know. I didn’t stop. I wheeled away.

But, I am haunted by the eyes of a child.