Tuesday, 26 August 2014
Peaches!
Last night Jan came to help me bottle peaches. Her intent was to learn the process, but she was immensely helpful and we were done by 10:30. Usually peaches are a slog, involving an aching back, a sticky floor, and a bitter heart by the time all is done, but with someone new to chat with, the time zipped by. I am rewarded this morning by a counterful of gleaming golden jars, the contentment of the prospect of cobblers and pies for the coming year, and the knowledge that I have a new friend.
Saturday, 23 August 2014
I think not...
Well, I should have known Brio wouldn't tolerate not being walked today. I managed to finish the tomatoes and salsa by 3:30, after hours of standing at the kitchen sink, and all I could think of was sitting down with a good book and vegging out for an hour...but no. Who can sit and relax with those laser beam eyes boring into yours and that big tongue lolling out in a doggy grin? You could see what he was thinking. It's time to go! Of course we're going! Are you ready? Ready to go? Why are you sitting? Out out out! Whee!
So we went, and the air was lovely and cool, and the sky was pearly blue and the grass was so green it hurt to look at it, and there went my amber and white dog, sailing over that expanse of green with his ears flapping and exquisite joy radiating from every hair. It's funny to hear him try to bark when his mouth is filled with a large fuzzy orange ball. He sounds like someone sneezing into a jar.
I have learned a trick to tire him out more quickly; I stand on a hill at one end of the park and throw the ball as high and far as I can. He races to get it like syrup pouring down the hill...but he has to run uphill to return the ball to me. So it wears him out faster. He collapses at last on his side, panting hard, the ball still in his mouth, and he rolls his eyes at me as if to say Just give me a minute. I'm not done yet! We sit and watch the clouds bump into each other for a moment. And then he's dropped the soggy ball at my feet and raced off again.
All in all a lovely and productive day. And there was still time to get home to that book and a bowl of cinnamon popcorn. Not chips and salsa. I've seen enough salsa for today.
Lisandro Rota
So we went, and the air was lovely and cool, and the sky was pearly blue and the grass was so green it hurt to look at it, and there went my amber and white dog, sailing over that expanse of green with his ears flapping and exquisite joy radiating from every hair. It's funny to hear him try to bark when his mouth is filled with a large fuzzy orange ball. He sounds like someone sneezing into a jar.
I have learned a trick to tire him out more quickly; I stand on a hill at one end of the park and throw the ball as high and far as I can. He races to get it like syrup pouring down the hill...but he has to run uphill to return the ball to me. So it wears him out faster. He collapses at last on his side, panting hard, the ball still in his mouth, and he rolls his eyes at me as if to say Just give me a minute. I'm not done yet! We sit and watch the clouds bump into each other for a moment. And then he's dropped the soggy ball at my feet and raced off again.
All in all a lovely and productive day. And there was still time to get home to that book and a bowl of cinnamon popcorn. Not chips and salsa. I've seen enough salsa for today.
Teeth and Tomatoes
Not much time to write this weekend, I'm sorry. Son Number Three got all four wisdom teeth out yesterday, and today I'm bottling tomatoes and making salsa. A bushel of peaches waits in the basement. The writing is on hold. The dogs will not get walked today. And I highly doubt much of anything else will happen anytime soon! Stay tuned...
Wednesday, 20 August 2014
Real Joy
A roller coaster this week! A good friend and member of our pipe band got his mission call for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints this week. He took a video of him opening the envelope and brought it for us to watch at band practice. When he read out that he was called to serve in Costa Rica, you could see a surge of delight run through his body, and he started jumping up and down. And when he got to the part about having to teach in Spanish, he danced right out of the camera frame.
It's a real treat to see honest joy, excitement, and goodness in an 18-year-old kid. The grin on his face will stay with me a long time. He's about to face the two most difficult years of his life, far from home, cut off from frequent contact with family and friends. He's putting school and career path on hold. He'll have to fend for himself, struggle with a new language, and learn a new culture. He'll have to be responsible for laundry, cooking, cleaning, shopping, and getting along with his assigned companion while keeping tough hours and working with the people he's teaching. He'll grow and learn and discover a lot about himself over the next two years, and he will come home an adult, not a kid. He's footing the bill for all of this with thousands of dollars he has diligently worked for and saved throughout his life.
And in the face of all this, he is overjoyed. And so am I! I couldn't be prouder that he is eager and worthy to serve, and I can't wait to go through the same experience with my own son in just a couple of years.
It's a real treat to see honest joy, excitement, and goodness in an 18-year-old kid. The grin on his face will stay with me a long time. He's about to face the two most difficult years of his life, far from home, cut off from frequent contact with family and friends. He's putting school and career path on hold. He'll have to fend for himself, struggle with a new language, and learn a new culture. He'll have to be responsible for laundry, cooking, cleaning, shopping, and getting along with his assigned companion while keeping tough hours and working with the people he's teaching. He'll grow and learn and discover a lot about himself over the next two years, and he will come home an adult, not a kid. He's footing the bill for all of this with thousands of dollars he has diligently worked for and saved throughout his life.
And in the face of all this, he is overjoyed. And so am I! I couldn't be prouder that he is eager and worthy to serve, and I can't wait to go through the same experience with my own son in just a couple of years.
Saturday, 16 August 2014
Perspective
Yesterday I learned that a dear friend has Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. They can't start chemotherapy yet because she also has something else they're still trying to identify, and further tests will take ten days. She called me from the Imaging Department of the hospital with the news, not to weep or seek sympathy but to ask if I could pick her son up from the bus for her.
My friend is the type who won't tell anyone when she's in the hospital. She's the one who quietly serves, who takes food to new mothers and gives rides to the elderly. She isn't used to being on the receiving end and won't like it a bit. This trial ahead of her is going to test her ability to acknowledge when she needs help and seek the support of other women. I can't fathom the challenges ahead of her in facing this cancer, but I do understand her reluctance to admit to needing help, because I'm the same way. Knowing this, I won't wait for her to ask, but I'll watch for small things I can do to try to ease her burden. Starting with being at the bus stop.
As we spoke it became very clear to me that her main concern is for her teenage son, not for herself. She wants to make sure he's watched over and cared for and guided in his life, and she wants to be the one to do it. I pray that she will be granted that wish. If she isn't, the rest of us will need to be there for him. Really, we should be anyway, for all children.
News like this always snaps things back into perspective for me. How can I whine about my job when my friend would give anything to be able to just wake up to a normal day and go to work? How can I complain about my small aches and pains when they pale in comparison to cancer? How can I focus on the clothes on the floor or the dirty dishes in the bedroom when I am being granted the amazing opportunity to watch my son grow into a young man?
My friend is the type who won't tell anyone when she's in the hospital. She's the one who quietly serves, who takes food to new mothers and gives rides to the elderly. She isn't used to being on the receiving end and won't like it a bit. This trial ahead of her is going to test her ability to acknowledge when she needs help and seek the support of other women. I can't fathom the challenges ahead of her in facing this cancer, but I do understand her reluctance to admit to needing help, because I'm the same way. Knowing this, I won't wait for her to ask, but I'll watch for small things I can do to try to ease her burden. Starting with being at the bus stop.
As we spoke it became very clear to me that her main concern is for her teenage son, not for herself. She wants to make sure he's watched over and cared for and guided in his life, and she wants to be the one to do it. I pray that she will be granted that wish. If she isn't, the rest of us will need to be there for him. Really, we should be anyway, for all children.
News like this always snaps things back into perspective for me. How can I whine about my job when my friend would give anything to be able to just wake up to a normal day and go to work? How can I complain about my small aches and pains when they pale in comparison to cancer? How can I focus on the clothes on the floor or the dirty dishes in the bedroom when I am being granted the amazing opportunity to watch my son grow into a young man?
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
Typing as Fast as I Can
Got the news -- the manuscript I submitted right before going to Italy has been accepted. And they want another one asap. That will be three submissions in, like, three months. Gotta be a record! We'll see if I can pull it off.
Thursday, 7 August 2014
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)