Our refinance ordeal is finally over. What should have been a slam-dunk and should have taken only three weeks from start to finish, actually took eight months and ultimately required a letter to the CEO (something I have not done since I was in my twenties). I think I can safely say that the delay was not caused by us, but was caused by the bank (and, to be charitable, maybe even confusion on their part as to new rules brought about by the current economic crisis).
I won’t name the bank because I am very forgiving (and because in the end we got a really good deal…4.5% fixed, zero points and almost no other closing costs). Still, the eight-month delay cost us a total of about $10,000 and we could not refinance the higher interest loan used for the elusive one’s university education while the house refinance was pending. After five months, my favorite husband got so frustrated that he wanted to dump the whole thing and go somewhere else, which is probably what the bank wanted us to do, but I absolutely refused to give up that rate. So, persistence paid off and we closed on the deal last week. This should result in a savings of about $1300 per month…which also goes a long way toward making me so forgiving.
Now I have a plan to use that savings to pay off our other bills. I wrote up the plan a few months ago, but could not implement it until now. I think it’s going to be really nice to get rid of our debt. We hemorrhaged money this summer. There have been so many unexpected events since March, each costing between $500 and $1500…starting with the sad loss of Wolfie, going on to medical costs, two replaced clutches and a replaced motor mount, dental (OMG don’t get me started on that!), helping the elusive one get back to Scotland for his Masters’ Degree. My plan now is to cut costs and pay off the debt. It’s been a very stressful year, which explains, in part, my absence.
But I feel more like myself again. The stress is starting to let up quite a bit and I’m feeling really creative again, playing the piano, stitching, painting, reading…I hope the stars are properly aligned now for a new leaf on life. Now that the nightmare is over.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Future Is Here
When I was coming home from work yesterday, I really wished I had a camera at my fingertips. As I was passing the new (well, relatively new) WWII Memorial, I saw one of our mounted police sitting astride a beautiful Morgan, as still as a statue...looking intently at his Blackberry.
I wish my own Blackberry had a camera on it! I decided against the Curve (which has a camera) in favor of the World Edition (which does NOT have a camera) because I wanted to be able to use it in Scotland when the Elusive Offspring graduated in June. I didn't mind not having a camera in the Blackberry then, because I always had my little Cybershot with me. But for everyday life, I don't carry the camera.
I can't wait until Apple decides to open up its iPhone to all providers. As soon as the iPhone is available on Verizon, I'm switching! Until then...I'll suffer through without a built in camera. Sigh. I do have an iPod Touch, which my wonderful son gave me when he got it for free as a perk for buying a new MacBook Pro for his graduate work. I love it. It doesn't have a camera either, but it lets me read books from my Kindle (great for waiting in the doctor's office), and I can watch movies on it (that was wonderful when I flew out to LA recently).
Technology is a wonderful thing.
I wish my own Blackberry had a camera on it! I decided against the Curve (which has a camera) in favor of the World Edition (which does NOT have a camera) because I wanted to be able to use it in Scotland when the Elusive Offspring graduated in June. I didn't mind not having a camera in the Blackberry then, because I always had my little Cybershot with me. But for everyday life, I don't carry the camera.
I can't wait until Apple decides to open up its iPhone to all providers. As soon as the iPhone is available on Verizon, I'm switching! Until then...I'll suffer through without a built in camera. Sigh. I do have an iPod Touch, which my wonderful son gave me when he got it for free as a perk for buying a new MacBook Pro for his graduate work. I love it. It doesn't have a camera either, but it lets me read books from my Kindle (great for waiting in the doctor's office), and I can watch movies on it (that was wonderful when I flew out to LA recently).
Technology is a wonderful thing.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Daily's Lost Companion
I didn’t mean to be cruel. It just happened. Daily was at the back door, yowling at Kira and my favorite husband, who were in the back yard playing with a ball. I was in the front of the house, in the living room, listening to his howling, and it sounded like “lemmeout”…so I sort of made the same sound. He ignored me. He knew very well I was mocking him. We went on like this for a few minutes, but then I ramped it up a bit, into the real thing. I am actually quite good at making a variety of cat sounds. Been doing it since I was 8 or 9. I can fool dogs, cats and people. This time, I made the same howl that Wolfie used to do when he went into the basement (don’t know why he used to do this, but he did). Suddenly, Daily came running into the living room, meowing expectantly, responsively. He stood in the middle of the rug and looked here and there, with huge, concerned eyes – and it was clear to me that he was positive that he would find his long lost buddy, Wolfie. My heart broke.
Cesar Millan says that dogs (and I would add cats and all animals) live in the now. I believe that. For two weeks after we had to euthanize Wolfie, Daily frantically looked for him, everywhere. Whenever we opened a door to leave, he tried desperately to escape the house because he was certain that Wolfie was out there and all he had to do was go out and find him. But then, after a few weeks, he settled down and seemed to be moving on. He and Kira have gotten pretty close.
But when Daily ran into the living room the other day, expecting to see Wolfie almost five months later, I realized that, although animals live in the now, they don’t forget. Wolfie may be gone, but he's not forgotten. I cannot help but wonder what Daily would have done if he had found Wolfie in the living room.
Cesar Millan says that dogs (and I would add cats and all animals) live in the now. I believe that. For two weeks after we had to euthanize Wolfie, Daily frantically looked for him, everywhere. Whenever we opened a door to leave, he tried desperately to escape the house because he was certain that Wolfie was out there and all he had to do was go out and find him. But then, after a few weeks, he settled down and seemed to be moving on. He and Kira have gotten pretty close.
But when Daily ran into the living room the other day, expecting to see Wolfie almost five months later, I realized that, although animals live in the now, they don’t forget. Wolfie may be gone, but he's not forgotten. I cannot help but wonder what Daily would have done if he had found Wolfie in the living room.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Finished Book Nine
I just finished the last Sookie Stackhouse novel (number 9)...ok. So, in the nine books, we have met vampires, shifters and were-folk, witches, fairies, an ectoplasmic recreation, and even a maenad. I can't help but wonder what's next, ghosts? Or will she just stick to the (in)human aspect of Sookie's relationships with the various men, vampires, weres, and shifters in her life? These are important questions that will only be answered when Sookie 10 comes out. When will that be? Let me find out...
OK, May 2010. Time to turn to something new. Been thinking about reading Gone With The Wind again. I still have a bunch of the old-fashioned print books hanging around the house (as much as I love my pony the Kindle, I love print books more). Barbara Pym... have her first book...that would be a good one to read. And the elusive one has a copy of C.S. Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." It actually looks like a quick read...maybe I'll start with that.
So...that's what I'm going to do now. Start a new book.
OK, May 2010. Time to turn to something new. Been thinking about reading Gone With The Wind again. I still have a bunch of the old-fashioned print books hanging around the house (as much as I love my pony the Kindle, I love print books more). Barbara Pym... have her first book...that would be a good one to read. And the elusive one has a copy of C.S. Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." It actually looks like a quick read...maybe I'll start with that.
So...that's what I'm going to do now. Start a new book.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Finished Project
This is a photo of my stitched, but not yet framed project, "Arabella Reborn," a Michael Boren design, in the original Fraises du Bois pink! It is a lot prettier in person than it is in this photo. I'll frame it when I finish stitching the companion piece, "Daphne Reborn," which I have only just started. I did Arabella Reborn in two full days. Maybe if I spend this next weekend stitching, I might also finish "Daphne." Somehow I doubt I will have the time, but I'll try. I also want to finish stitching a couple of other projects this year. I'll try to photo and post them as I complete them.
Monday, August 3, 2009
There But For The Grace Of God
Saturday night we (my favorite husband, the elusive son and I) went out to eat at our favorite sushi restaurant (Shiki Sushi in Ballston Commons) and then to see a movie (Star Trek, which the EO had not seen yet). It was a wonderful family-time evening, and on the way home, the sky was crackling in preparation for yet another beautiful thunderstorm.
The night became disturbing when, nearing Lee Highway, we saw a man in the median of the road. He had fallen and could not get up…in fact he started crawling. He had no shoes on. It was clear that he was either very drunk or very weak/ill. Either way, we could not leave him, so we stopped in hopes of helping him. When we got to him, we could tell that he had been drinking, heavily. We got him on his feet, and it became obvious that he was in no shape to continue his journey on foot (or knee).
He looked to me to be in his sixties…but he could have been younger. I just could not tell in the dark. Then again, I don’t know if I’m a good judge of age. He was dressed in clean, decent athletic clothing, and had a very nice pair of glasses on, and we did not feel like he was homeless, so we asked him what his address was. “Four one four,” he said, and then repeated: “Four one four.” But no street address. “Should we look at your license to see where you live?” I asked him, and he said that his wallet had been stolen…and in fact, he did not seem to have a wallet on him. No identification at all. But finally, we got the name of his street and we put him in our car. Yes, we put him in our car. That’s a real iffy thing to do, I realize. I mean, who was this guy and what were we going to do with him if we didn’t find his home? We didn’t want to take him to the police. They would put him in jail and then he would have that on his record. And we could not leave him there in the median…it was about to storm. He could have been hit by a car, or struck by lightning, or he could have fallen again and ended up in a gutter and drowned. It could happen.
We drove around looking for the 400 block of his road. It didn’t make sense, because we were in the 4000 block, which made me believe he probably meant 4014, not 414. Thank goodness that was correct, and at last we got him to 4014, where it turns out he lived in a basement apartment. It was quite dark by then, and, leaving me in the car, H and EO walked him (one on each side) to his apartment. It was so dark and late, I was afraid someone would think they were burglers and shoot them or something (yes, I’m a worrier…worrier, I say, not a warrior). As they passed the man’s car, they found his wallet, keys, a half eaten hotdog and I think they said an empty Vodka bottle (but could not find his shoes). They took these things and the man into the apartment and helped him into bed. Then then came back to the car and we went home.
I hope the man stayed in bed. I hope it was his apartment (haha). In the morning, he would have absolutely no recollection of what had happened the night before. Which is fine by me.
The night became disturbing when, nearing Lee Highway, we saw a man in the median of the road. He had fallen and could not get up…in fact he started crawling. He had no shoes on. It was clear that he was either very drunk or very weak/ill. Either way, we could not leave him, so we stopped in hopes of helping him. When we got to him, we could tell that he had been drinking, heavily. We got him on his feet, and it became obvious that he was in no shape to continue his journey on foot (or knee).
He looked to me to be in his sixties…but he could have been younger. I just could not tell in the dark. Then again, I don’t know if I’m a good judge of age. He was dressed in clean, decent athletic clothing, and had a very nice pair of glasses on, and we did not feel like he was homeless, so we asked him what his address was. “Four one four,” he said, and then repeated: “Four one four.” But no street address. “Should we look at your license to see where you live?” I asked him, and he said that his wallet had been stolen…and in fact, he did not seem to have a wallet on him. No identification at all. But finally, we got the name of his street and we put him in our car. Yes, we put him in our car. That’s a real iffy thing to do, I realize. I mean, who was this guy and what were we going to do with him if we didn’t find his home? We didn’t want to take him to the police. They would put him in jail and then he would have that on his record. And we could not leave him there in the median…it was about to storm. He could have been hit by a car, or struck by lightning, or he could have fallen again and ended up in a gutter and drowned. It could happen.
We drove around looking for the 400 block of his road. It didn’t make sense, because we were in the 4000 block, which made me believe he probably meant 4014, not 414. Thank goodness that was correct, and at last we got him to 4014, where it turns out he lived in a basement apartment. It was quite dark by then, and, leaving me in the car, H and EO walked him (one on each side) to his apartment. It was so dark and late, I was afraid someone would think they were burglers and shoot them or something (yes, I’m a worrier…worrier, I say, not a warrior). As they passed the man’s car, they found his wallet, keys, a half eaten hotdog and I think they said an empty Vodka bottle (but could not find his shoes). They took these things and the man into the apartment and helped him into bed. Then then came back to the car and we went home.
I hope the man stayed in bed. I hope it was his apartment (haha). In the morning, he would have absolutely no recollection of what had happened the night before. Which is fine by me.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Kindle Time
I have not done much writing lately. Earlier in the year, I was so busy with a pesky case that I hardly wanted to look at a computer, much less write anything. But we settled that case, and less than a week after the settlement was filed, my favorite husband and I went to Scotland for the elusive offspring's graduation from St Andrews. We leased a flat on North Street for a week and what a good idea that was! We were able to entertain EO's friends and their parents, as well as lecturers. We were able to prepare our own meals, clean our clothing, spread out and stage EO's move from one flat to another (he is continuing next year, getting his Masters Degree). I didn't have access to a computer for writing, although I actually had time to write. Instead, I spent my down time reading books on my wonderful Kindle. I find that I have been reading so much more since I got the Kindle. It's so easy to carry from place to place, and when you finish one book, you can immediately start another one, without going to the bookstore. I am still reading physical paper books as well. But I have become very attached to the Kindle. In the last three months, I have read all but one of the Sookie Stackhouse novels as well as a few other books (to remain nameless for now). I should be starting that last one tonight. Next on my list is Anthony Trollope's "Claverings" and then Dennis Lehane's "The Given Day."
So ... we are back from Scotland (photos to follow...eventually), EO is home for a while longer, and I have time to get back to writing again. The house is looking quite nice, now that the wonderful Sara comes to clean it every two weeks, and we keep it so much neater now. I have about 12-15 boxes to go through...mostly paper. They are all stacked in the hallway for now because we are using the "project room" as a guest room (a friend of EO's from the UK is visiting right now). The project room actually looks very nice, too, with everything tucked away in pretty cabinets, behind doors. It seems like I have a couple of bags to take to Good Will every week or so. Who knew you could collect SO much stuff!
Yes, there is time to write now. And yet, it's not easy! I have so many things to write about, but I just can't seem to get going with it.
For now, I'll start my return with this rambling entry. Little by little, I'll get focused and back on track.
So ... we are back from Scotland (photos to follow...eventually), EO is home for a while longer, and I have time to get back to writing again. The house is looking quite nice, now that the wonderful Sara comes to clean it every two weeks, and we keep it so much neater now. I have about 12-15 boxes to go through...mostly paper. They are all stacked in the hallway for now because we are using the "project room" as a guest room (a friend of EO's from the UK is visiting right now). The project room actually looks very nice, too, with everything tucked away in pretty cabinets, behind doors. It seems like I have a couple of bags to take to Good Will every week or so. Who knew you could collect SO much stuff!
Yes, there is time to write now. And yet, it's not easy! I have so many things to write about, but I just can't seem to get going with it.
For now, I'll start my return with this rambling entry. Little by little, I'll get focused and back on track.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Horoscope
My horoscope for today says:
Do you remember how you spent the day yesterday? Write it down and give it a good look – this is a portrait of your life. A realization will come out of this exercise that improves your tomorrows.
OK, so here goes…
I got up early, made the bed and got ready for work. I made sure the house was neat and surfaces uncluttered so my wonderful cleaning lady could have an easier time of cleaning the house. I got to work a little earlier than usual and spent the day clearing out files, organizing papers, catching up on ministerial stuff. It was not a difficult day, but I was glad when it was over. Went home and let the dog out, said hi and bye to my son and his friend from the UK, and went to a friend’s house to play with beads (make jewelry) and have dinner. At around 8:00, I went home, ran into a neighbor and talked for half an hour, spend another half an hour talking to my son and his friends and laughing at the dog’s antics. Then they left and I went into the house to clean the kitchen, empty the dishwasher, relax, stitch, and watch a couple of NCIS episodes, with the cat and dog very relaxed at my feet. A hot bubble bath and a couple of chapters of Sookie Stackhouse novel #8, and to bed by midnight. It was a good day. But was it a portrait of my life? Possibly. But it sounds awfully droll.
So what is the realization that comes out of this exercise to improve my tomorrows? Well, I’d say it is perhaps the thought that I’ve had a long time: I’d love to retire early, spend my days in creativity, and maybe start a business along the way. Ain’t gonna happen any time soon. Too many debts to pay off at this point in my life. But maybe it’s a goal.
Do you remember how you spent the day yesterday? Write it down and give it a good look – this is a portrait of your life. A realization will come out of this exercise that improves your tomorrows.
OK, so here goes…
I got up early, made the bed and got ready for work. I made sure the house was neat and surfaces uncluttered so my wonderful cleaning lady could have an easier time of cleaning the house. I got to work a little earlier than usual and spent the day clearing out files, organizing papers, catching up on ministerial stuff. It was not a difficult day, but I was glad when it was over. Went home and let the dog out, said hi and bye to my son and his friend from the UK, and went to a friend’s house to play with beads (make jewelry) and have dinner. At around 8:00, I went home, ran into a neighbor and talked for half an hour, spend another half an hour talking to my son and his friends and laughing at the dog’s antics. Then they left and I went into the house to clean the kitchen, empty the dishwasher, relax, stitch, and watch a couple of NCIS episodes, with the cat and dog very relaxed at my feet. A hot bubble bath and a couple of chapters of Sookie Stackhouse novel #8, and to bed by midnight. It was a good day. But was it a portrait of my life? Possibly. But it sounds awfully droll.
So what is the realization that comes out of this exercise to improve my tomorrows? Well, I’d say it is perhaps the thought that I’ve had a long time: I’d love to retire early, spend my days in creativity, and maybe start a business along the way. Ain’t gonna happen any time soon. Too many debts to pay off at this point in my life. But maybe it’s a goal.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Hiatus
It's been a really long time since I have had time to write. Every once in a while I have one of those years where I spend a lot of time in the office...this seems to be one of those years. This week, I have been getting in at 6:30 a.m. and leaving at 6 p.m., and even then bringing stuff home with me. I'm getting really tired of this particular case. It is a lot of work, and stress. I'm ok with that, but I would like a break. I should not complain because I went on a stitching weekend a few weeks ago and had a wonderful time. I started and finished one piece, and completed another one too.
But that's about it for my free time. I just hope this case settles before we go to Scotland for the Elusive One's graduation.
Speaking of EO, today is his birthday. He's pretty happy today. Not just because it's his birthday, but because he is finished with classes etc. He defended his disseration today (hope that went well). And the best news was that he has been accepted to a postgraduate degree program...in Scotland. Yippee! I foresee more visits to Scotland in the future!
So, it may take me a while to write again. I'll try.
But that's about it for my free time. I just hope this case settles before we go to Scotland for the Elusive One's graduation.
Speaking of EO, today is his birthday. He's pretty happy today. Not just because it's his birthday, but because he is finished with classes etc. He defended his disseration today (hope that went well). And the best news was that he has been accepted to a postgraduate degree program...in Scotland. Yippee! I foresee more visits to Scotland in the future!
So, it may take me a while to write again. I'll try.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Fox Mating Season
OK, so I know that there are people who actually get up at 4 in the morning to go to work during the week. And there are even people who get up at 4 in the morning on weekends. But I'm usually sleeping soundly, deep in dreams, at 4 a.m. on any given day.
Not last night. Imagine waking to the ungodly sound of a fox, screaming its little mating call right under your window. It is a VERY loud sound, and you might even mistake it for a cat using up its ninth life. But, it's a fox. Making the sound only another fox in search of a mate could enjoy. It echoed through the quiet morning air. Heart pounding, I looked out of our second floor bedroom window to see if I could spot it. Couldn't. But it sounded SO CLOSE. So I stood at the top of the stairs, and it was even louder. I crept down the stairs (each step squeaking loudly) and peered out the window on the front door. The sound was coming from less than five feet away. That fox was on my front porch, which is a big wraparound porch six steps up. Making its God-awful sound. When I tried to peek through the front window at him, he saw the movement and ran down to the walkway below the porch, where he stayed a few moments, then, cheeky thing, he ran back up onto the front porch and started again. Eventually, I had to speak to my favorite husband, who wanted to go outside and suggest to the fox (with a shoe perhaps?) that he might want to take his love sickness elsewhere. When he heard my voice, the fox trotted away, and we didn't hear him again. He was a handsome fellow, very golden, and the size of a very large cat. By now, I was wide awake. I finally got to sleep around 5:00.
I wonder if Daily's heart was pounding? He'd been attacked by a couple of foxes in his early life before we got him. Survived both attacks. I'll bet he knew exactly what that sound was, and was glad to be safe inside. Imagine being a homeless person asleep in the park down below, waking to that sound. I think that's where the term "primal fear" comes from. Fortunately, it was not a wolf.
Not last night. Imagine waking to the ungodly sound of a fox, screaming its little mating call right under your window. It is a VERY loud sound, and you might even mistake it for a cat using up its ninth life. But, it's a fox. Making the sound only another fox in search of a mate could enjoy. It echoed through the quiet morning air. Heart pounding, I looked out of our second floor bedroom window to see if I could spot it. Couldn't. But it sounded SO CLOSE. So I stood at the top of the stairs, and it was even louder. I crept down the stairs (each step squeaking loudly) and peered out the window on the front door. The sound was coming from less than five feet away. That fox was on my front porch, which is a big wraparound porch six steps up. Making its God-awful sound. When I tried to peek through the front window at him, he saw the movement and ran down to the walkway below the porch, where he stayed a few moments, then, cheeky thing, he ran back up onto the front porch and started again. Eventually, I had to speak to my favorite husband, who wanted to go outside and suggest to the fox (with a shoe perhaps?) that he might want to take his love sickness elsewhere. When he heard my voice, the fox trotted away, and we didn't hear him again. He was a handsome fellow, very golden, and the size of a very large cat. By now, I was wide awake. I finally got to sleep around 5:00.
I wonder if Daily's heart was pounding? He'd been attacked by a couple of foxes in his early life before we got him. Survived both attacks. I'll bet he knew exactly what that sound was, and was glad to be safe inside. Imagine being a homeless person asleep in the park down below, waking to that sound. I think that's where the term "primal fear" comes from. Fortunately, it was not a wolf.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Beautiful Weekend
What a beautiful weekend we are having here in gorgeous Northern Virginia. It's about 65 degrees outside, but the wind is blowing like crazy. The sky is as clear as can be. People are out running, riding bikes, walking dogs, doing stuff.
This morning I went to Woodlawn to pick up the piece I had entered in the needlepoint exhibit, and on the drive down GW Parkway, I saw one of the bald eagles (was it Alex or Belle?) dive down into the Potomac and come up with a fish in its talons that my husband would have been proud to catch. It was very large. And then it took off down the river toward Alexandria (which made me think it had to be either Alex or Belle). It was a fantastic sight. I know of the nest near my house (which I really don't think is being used except as a stopping point), and the now-famous one just south of Alexandria. But then, further south on GW Parkway, I saw a bunch of photographers with giant telephoto lenses checking out yet a third nest. I didn't see any eagles, but I don't think there would have been three photographers if there had not been eagles.
It is so damned exciting, having all these eagles! Bald eagles, flying over the nation's capitol...imagine that! And as I turned onto Spout Run on my return drive home, I saw a huge golden raptor flying across the road. I don't know what it was. It was SO big. At first I thought it was one of the bald eagles, but it was the wrong color: all golden. I don't think it was a red tail either, because it was a lot lighter than any red tailed hawk I've seen. Are they a different color here than they are in Texas?
This is so thrilling! So many raptors, so little time to see them!
Tomorrow a friend is coming over to paint. It's supposed to be beautiful again. I hope that we will be able to sit outside on the front porch and enjoy the weather while we paint our watercolors. And wouldn't it be wonderful if one of the eagles or a hawk flew by just for us?
This morning I went to Woodlawn to pick up the piece I had entered in the needlepoint exhibit, and on the drive down GW Parkway, I saw one of the bald eagles (was it Alex or Belle?) dive down into the Potomac and come up with a fish in its talons that my husband would have been proud to catch. It was very large. And then it took off down the river toward Alexandria (which made me think it had to be either Alex or Belle). It was a fantastic sight. I know of the nest near my house (which I really don't think is being used except as a stopping point), and the now-famous one just south of Alexandria. But then, further south on GW Parkway, I saw a bunch of photographers with giant telephoto lenses checking out yet a third nest. I didn't see any eagles, but I don't think there would have been three photographers if there had not been eagles.
It is so damned exciting, having all these eagles! Bald eagles, flying over the nation's capitol...imagine that! And as I turned onto Spout Run on my return drive home, I saw a huge golden raptor flying across the road. I don't know what it was. It was SO big. At first I thought it was one of the bald eagles, but it was the wrong color: all golden. I don't think it was a red tail either, because it was a lot lighter than any red tailed hawk I've seen. Are they a different color here than they are in Texas?
This is so thrilling! So many raptors, so little time to see them!
Tomorrow a friend is coming over to paint. It's supposed to be beautiful again. I hope that we will be able to sit outside on the front porch and enjoy the weather while we paint our watercolors. And wouldn't it be wonderful if one of the eagles or a hawk flew by just for us?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Some Updates
First update is in regards to Wolfie: Daily is beside himself with grief. I have never seen a cat so depressed and lethargic. The first couple of days, he tried desperately to escape the house. I think he was absolutely certain he would find Wolfie outside somewhere. Then he gave that up and commenced wandering from room to room plaintively calling. Those two cats have been together every day for the past 6 or 7 years. And now Daily is miserably lonely. That makes me very sad.
How is Kira handling it? She doesn't seem to care one way or another. It's like she's the princess and it's all about her. What's one cat more or less? But that may not be fair. She keeps checking on Daily. She licks him on the head and lightly nibbles him with her front teeth. So, maybe I'm not reading her right. Maybe she really does miss Wolfie. It just doesn't show the same way.
Second update is regarding Kira. When we got her a year ago, she had major physical and psychological issues. For the first three months, we had to clean up after her every single day, sometimes twice a day. It was like she didn't know how to use the outdoors for her bathroom needs. Now, she is so meticulous that she uses the same part of the yard every day. And she will come to us and sit in front of us and look us in the eyes when she needs to go outside. She is very smart. When we got her, she weighed 58 pounds, and her lips were white and the lower ones hung down significantly. Now, she weighs 63 pounds...it doesn't seem like a huge weight gain and it certainly isn't (the vet thinks she should weigh about 90 pounds), but there have been other changes. We feed her four cups of food a day, the amount called for to feed a 90 pound dog...she eats it all, but to no avail. She simply has a super fast metabolism (for which I am jealous). However, she is now more muscular, and much stronger, and her lips are back in place and the right color. Her coat is beautiful. She holds her head up and wags her tail often. She is definitely OUR dog now. We have cleared up the nightly barking and whining (actually, I think the cats helped her with that by keeping her company). She comes immediately when called. She gets a lot of exercise, and does not spend all her time racing from front door to back door and barking at everyone who passes. When we are all home together, she goes to her cushion in the living room, and stays there content just to be with us. What a beautiful dog. And probably the gentlest dog I have ever known. The other day, I put my whole hand in her mouth and she just licked me. I would NEVER have dreamed of doing that with Ziggy. If I had, I would not be playing the piano any more. So, Kira has made herself very much a part of our lives. She is amazing.
Third update: my bald eagles. I believe that the bald eagles I saw in the nest near our house at the end of last year moved away and started building a nest south of Alexandria in December or January. The nest has been empty. And now it is probably a little late in the season for any eagles to move into it. Occasionally, I see a big beautiful bald eagle flying overhead, but I am not so sure it is one of the two I saw on the nest at the end of last year. This morning, on the drive in, I looked up at the big nest and thought I saw the outline of an eagle. Yes, traffic was thick, but I could not help but look again, and there she was, perched on the side of the nest, as big and beautiful a bald eagle as she should be. What is it about those birds??? I absolutely love them. I don't know if she was checking the nest out as a possible new aerie...but wouldn't it be NICE???
Fourth update: the continuing saga of "Operation Project Room." It is so much easier to move around that room now. It is actually a pleasant place to spend time, on the computer, playing with beads, painting water colors, looking out the window at all the "city wildlife" (squirrels, birds, chipmunks, occasional hawks and eagles, foxes, and even a couple of times a deer or two!). I like it. Of course, I still have about eight file boxes to go through, but I'm not feeling so stressed about the paperwork now.
And now I find myself reading and playing the piano. Right now, I am reading Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dynamiter" in paper format (not on the pony). I didn't even know he had written such a book. But I am enjoying it, even with the rather dense writing.
I'm also playing the piano again. I had it tuned last week, and now that the house is staying clean (with Sara's care), I feel like playing. I'm still working on the Handel Sarabande and today picked up my copy of the Moonlight Sonata. I'd like to relearn that. Interestingly, the first time I played it, I did a MUCH better job than the next four or five times. That's strange.
Ok, so I'm really rambling. I'll quit now.
How is Kira handling it? She doesn't seem to care one way or another. It's like she's the princess and it's all about her. What's one cat more or less? But that may not be fair. She keeps checking on Daily. She licks him on the head and lightly nibbles him with her front teeth. So, maybe I'm not reading her right. Maybe she really does miss Wolfie. It just doesn't show the same way.
Second update is regarding Kira. When we got her a year ago, she had major physical and psychological issues. For the first three months, we had to clean up after her every single day, sometimes twice a day. It was like she didn't know how to use the outdoors for her bathroom needs. Now, she is so meticulous that she uses the same part of the yard every day. And she will come to us and sit in front of us and look us in the eyes when she needs to go outside. She is very smart. When we got her, she weighed 58 pounds, and her lips were white and the lower ones hung down significantly. Now, she weighs 63 pounds...it doesn't seem like a huge weight gain and it certainly isn't (the vet thinks she should weigh about 90 pounds), but there have been other changes. We feed her four cups of food a day, the amount called for to feed a 90 pound dog...she eats it all, but to no avail. She simply has a super fast metabolism (for which I am jealous). However, she is now more muscular, and much stronger, and her lips are back in place and the right color. Her coat is beautiful. She holds her head up and wags her tail often. She is definitely OUR dog now. We have cleared up the nightly barking and whining (actually, I think the cats helped her with that by keeping her company). She comes immediately when called. She gets a lot of exercise, and does not spend all her time racing from front door to back door and barking at everyone who passes. When we are all home together, she goes to her cushion in the living room, and stays there content just to be with us. What a beautiful dog. And probably the gentlest dog I have ever known. The other day, I put my whole hand in her mouth and she just licked me. I would NEVER have dreamed of doing that with Ziggy. If I had, I would not be playing the piano any more. So, Kira has made herself very much a part of our lives. She is amazing.
Third update: my bald eagles. I believe that the bald eagles I saw in the nest near our house at the end of last year moved away and started building a nest south of Alexandria in December or January. The nest has been empty. And now it is probably a little late in the season for any eagles to move into it. Occasionally, I see a big beautiful bald eagle flying overhead, but I am not so sure it is one of the two I saw on the nest at the end of last year. This morning, on the drive in, I looked up at the big nest and thought I saw the outline of an eagle. Yes, traffic was thick, but I could not help but look again, and there she was, perched on the side of the nest, as big and beautiful a bald eagle as she should be. What is it about those birds??? I absolutely love them. I don't know if she was checking the nest out as a possible new aerie...but wouldn't it be NICE???
Fourth update: the continuing saga of "Operation Project Room." It is so much easier to move around that room now. It is actually a pleasant place to spend time, on the computer, playing with beads, painting water colors, looking out the window at all the "city wildlife" (squirrels, birds, chipmunks, occasional hawks and eagles, foxes, and even a couple of times a deer or two!). I like it. Of course, I still have about eight file boxes to go through, but I'm not feeling so stressed about the paperwork now.
And now I find myself reading and playing the piano. Right now, I am reading Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dynamiter" in paper format (not on the pony). I didn't even know he had written such a book. But I am enjoying it, even with the rather dense writing.
I'm also playing the piano again. I had it tuned last week, and now that the house is staying clean (with Sara's care), I feel like playing. I'm still working on the Handel Sarabande and today picked up my copy of the Moonlight Sonata. I'd like to relearn that. Interestingly, the first time I played it, I did a MUCH better job than the next four or five times. That's strange.
Ok, so I'm really rambling. I'll quit now.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Quality of Life
Girl from Texas left a comment on my March 26 entry, saying that there was such a thing as quality of living, and that it was a very important variable in the decision as to when to euthanize a pet.
It made me wonder: What is quality of life for a cat? Except for those rare cats that belong to adventurous people, cats don't go hiking, or to operas, or on vacations to the beach, or out to fancy restaurants. They don't have dinner parties with friends, or read books or go to museums. They don't write blogs, or keep in touch with friends through e-mail, or do creative things like painting and needlepoint and the like.
What is quality of life for a house cat that never goes outside. Wolfie used to sleep on the dog bed, sit in the front window and watch people and dogs go by, then sleep in a little patch of sunlight coming in through the dining room window. Then he would look out the window at birds he cannot chase, and sleep some more. When we got home from work, he was happy to be fed, and then he checked out Kira's bowl to see if she had left him any little tidbits (usually, she did). Then he came to sleep on the sofa near us. We have a little space heater that the cats think of as their own personal little fireplace. Wolfie absolutely loved the "fireplace." If it was not on, he would sit in front of it an look at me, willing me to turn it on for him, so he could curl up on the floor in front of it (his hearth) and ... sleep. But that was it. Sleep, eat, look out the window, be petted, lick Daily, rub against Kira.
I think that quality of life for a house cat must be comfort and love. I have always felt that all of my pets have both comfort and love in spades. They are well cared for and very well loved. But now that he is gone, I have these little doubts...did I love little Wolfie enough? Setting aside religious beliefs, just how much are you supposed to love a pet? I love all my pets, but I am closer to Daily than any of the others. I call him my "familiar." It's like he knows what I am thinking, and he is funny and lively and so affectionate. And yet, I also like to call him the "pain-in-the-butt-cat." I could not imagine going through this with him. Yet, I know someday I will have to. At what point is comfort and love not enough?
I have a dear friend who simply could not say goodbye to a cat that was dying of stomach cancer, and with excellent veterinarian care, she managed to keep that little cat alive for six more months (at a cost of $12,000). She said she just could not stand the thought of not having this little being with her. Now, well removed from the event, she says she wishes she hadn't put the little cat through all that. But in my opinion, it wasn't just the cat that suffered. She put herself through so much grief over those six months, trying to prolong the inevitable. As it is, I feel really bad about how long Wolfie had his asthma. He didn't seem to have any real trouble living with it for 8 years, but lately it started to act up more and more. I think the secondary infection is what caused the collapsed lung. But then again, I am not a vet.
I do miss Wolfie very much. I miss his sweet little face, with the black lips that look like a kiss. I miss his funny little sound like a purr and meow put together... "gwaww." I really miss the way he would sit on the stool in the kitchen and reach out to pat me with his paw. He was so endearing when he sat up on his haunches and reached out with both paws to grab my arm.
I think we second guess ourselves whenever we have to say goodbye to a beloved pet. I regret the loss of Rocky, Toby, Sadie, Ziggy, and now Wolfie. But I cannot regret letting them into my life and my heart. There's nothing like being greeted at the door by those loving little faces after a rough day at the office.
And so, I know I will face the loss again and again, as long as I bring these little beings into my life. Which I will continue to do. Will I get another cat any time soon? I don't think so...at least not right now. Someday, maybe. Not now.
It made me wonder: What is quality of life for a cat? Except for those rare cats that belong to adventurous people, cats don't go hiking, or to operas, or on vacations to the beach, or out to fancy restaurants. They don't have dinner parties with friends, or read books or go to museums. They don't write blogs, or keep in touch with friends through e-mail, or do creative things like painting and needlepoint and the like.
What is quality of life for a house cat that never goes outside. Wolfie used to sleep on the dog bed, sit in the front window and watch people and dogs go by, then sleep in a little patch of sunlight coming in through the dining room window. Then he would look out the window at birds he cannot chase, and sleep some more. When we got home from work, he was happy to be fed, and then he checked out Kira's bowl to see if she had left him any little tidbits (usually, she did). Then he came to sleep on the sofa near us. We have a little space heater that the cats think of as their own personal little fireplace. Wolfie absolutely loved the "fireplace." If it was not on, he would sit in front of it an look at me, willing me to turn it on for him, so he could curl up on the floor in front of it (his hearth) and ... sleep. But that was it. Sleep, eat, look out the window, be petted, lick Daily, rub against Kira.
I think that quality of life for a house cat must be comfort and love. I have always felt that all of my pets have both comfort and love in spades. They are well cared for and very well loved. But now that he is gone, I have these little doubts...did I love little Wolfie enough? Setting aside religious beliefs, just how much are you supposed to love a pet? I love all my pets, but I am closer to Daily than any of the others. I call him my "familiar." It's like he knows what I am thinking, and he is funny and lively and so affectionate. And yet, I also like to call him the "pain-in-the-butt-cat." I could not imagine going through this with him. Yet, I know someday I will have to. At what point is comfort and love not enough?
I have a dear friend who simply could not say goodbye to a cat that was dying of stomach cancer, and with excellent veterinarian care, she managed to keep that little cat alive for six more months (at a cost of $12,000). She said she just could not stand the thought of not having this little being with her. Now, well removed from the event, she says she wishes she hadn't put the little cat through all that. But in my opinion, it wasn't just the cat that suffered. She put herself through so much grief over those six months, trying to prolong the inevitable. As it is, I feel really bad about how long Wolfie had his asthma. He didn't seem to have any real trouble living with it for 8 years, but lately it started to act up more and more. I think the secondary infection is what caused the collapsed lung. But then again, I am not a vet.
I do miss Wolfie very much. I miss his sweet little face, with the black lips that look like a kiss. I miss his funny little sound like a purr and meow put together... "gwaww." I really miss the way he would sit on the stool in the kitchen and reach out to pat me with his paw. He was so endearing when he sat up on his haunches and reached out with both paws to grab my arm.
I think we second guess ourselves whenever we have to say goodbye to a beloved pet. I regret the loss of Rocky, Toby, Sadie, Ziggy, and now Wolfie. But I cannot regret letting them into my life and my heart. There's nothing like being greeted at the door by those loving little faces after a rough day at the office.
And so, I know I will face the loss again and again, as long as I bring these little beings into my life. Which I will continue to do. Will I get another cat any time soon? I don't think so...at least not right now. Someday, maybe. Not now.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Remind me, please, why we have animals?
I need to be reminded of what they add to our lives…other than pain of loss, which is what I am feeling right now. I am very sad.
Yesterday, when I got home, and immediately after letting Kira out to do her business, I saw (rather than heard) Wolfie struggling in the kitchen. He was crouched down, with his neck stretched out, and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was desperately struggling to breathe. I grabbed the phone and called our vet’s office to say I was watching a cat suffocate before my eyes. “Bring him in.” Usually, he meows during the drive to and from the vet, but yesterday night he couldn’t get enough air to say anything. As soon as I got him in, they took him back and started him on oxygen, which eased his breathing somewhat.
Wolfie has had asthma for the past 8 or 9 years. They suggested steroids when it started, but my research on steroids made me VERY suspect. If steroids are bad for humans, why would they be any better for cats? They weaken the kidneys and are bad for the heart. He would have to be given a pill every morning and every evening, and he absolutely HATES pills. Daily is a dream when it comes to pills, but Wolfie (as sweet as he is), fights every inch of the way. Imagine forcing a pill down that cat’s throat every day for the past 8 years…
Well, the asthma caught up with him yesterday. The vet immediately started him on oxygen and gave him albuterol and steroids and antibiotics. They wanted to keep him for observation, so I went back to see him, and when I petted him he leaned back into my hand, and looked so much more comfortable with the oxygen, which the technician was holding up to his face. Then they called me at 9:00 p.m. and said he really needed to be watched during the night and could we take him to a 24-hour facility (about 20 miles away). We paid our $300 there and took him to the emergency clinic, where they immediately put him in an oxygen cage. The vet told us that the x-ray of his chest showed a collapsed lung, and that he has a heart murmur, as well as a secondary infection along with the asthma.
But this is what is so difficult for us right now: when we were kids, vets didn’t do all these heroics to save family pets. They just said: “well, it’s time to let him go.” But now, vets have their own form of “Hippocratic oath” and will try to do anything to save an animal, regardless of the long-range outcome. This vet was really good when it came to trying to save Wolfie. She said, keep him on oxygen for three days, let the antibiotics take effect on the secondary infection, let the steroids help get rid of the asthma, and see if he doesn’t come around. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? Can we inflate the collapsed lung, I ask. Well, no, it would be too dangerous. Then she adds that what actually looks like a collapsed lung may be pneumonia (which is not really as common in cats as you might think). Or, it may be blockage due to the asthma. Will he be able to come off of the oxygen in a couple of days? Well, we hope so. Will we be able to get rid of the asthma with the steroids? That is the plan and the hope. How much to leave him over night? $1500! (OMG) Three days? $4500 (Triple OMG). What happens after three days if he is not able to get off of the oxygen? We can reassess the options then.
Wow! Smack me in the face! OK, so, now we have a 15-year-old cat, with a collapsed lung, heart murmur, severe asthma, and an inability to breathe without oxygen. If we clear up the asthma, how long will do we think that will last? Unknown. So, in other words, I could come home someday and see him gasping like a fish again, or worse, find a poor little cat body with a horrific look on its face from suffocating to death. Do we leave him there, in the comfort of an oxygen cage for however long it takes, or do we take him home and try to administer an albuterol inhaler when he has trouble breathing? Well, no, you can’t take the albuterol home because it causes stress on the heart and he needs to be monitored.
In the end, we left him over night, at a negotiated much-reduced cost. This morning at 5:00, the vet tried to take him off of the oxygen for 30 minutes, and he went into breathing distress. H and I discussed the situation. Feeling like total and complete heels, we decided it was time to let him go. We phoned the emergency vet with our decision. But when H got to the emergency clinic (I simply could not accompany him, after my experience with Ziggy last March), they had Wolfie in the crate, ready to be brought home to face another day. I think they did not want to be the ones to put him to sleep…sending us a clear message of their displeasure with us, maybe? H called me when he got to the house and said Woofums was in terrible distress. Kira and Daily were very upset…they knew Wolfie was in bad shape. H said he understood what I had felt yesterday. It brought tears to his eyes. In fact, I have tears in mine right now with the memory. So he took Wolfie to our regular vet to do the sad final deed. He says that by the time he got there, Wolfie was laying on his side with his head (wet from Kira’s administrations) against the side of the carrier, struggling. The vet took one look at him and said he looked much worse than he had yesterday, before the oxygen. Personally, I think the oxygen may have helped him in the short run, but it created a dependency that made him worse in the long run.
We could have done what the emergency vet suggested: we could have spent a lot of money keeping him going in an oxygen cage for a week or so (ka-ching, ka-ching), in the hopes that we would clear up the infection, might clear up the asthma (not likely, considering that he has had it at least 8 years), perhaps address the heart murmur, maybe clear the collapsed lung (if it is pneumonia). And then who knows how long he would live after all that, my geriatric little cat?
This morning, when we were discussing all the “options,” I told H that I just could not make the decision, and would he please make it for me (you know what decision I was talking about, of course). He said “will you still love me after I do?” Heck, I think I love him even more for having done it and keeping me from having to say the obvious. I mean, I had already come to the conclusion that I wanted HIM to take responsibility for but could not bring myself to cast the deciding vote. What a wimp I am. H did it.
So, my sweet tomato-snatching Wolfgang Amadeus Sunwolf Lightfoot (named by my Elusive Offspring, and you will recognize my blog name) is gone now. At lunch, my friend Janet and I toasted our cats and their ability to give us years of great pleasure, ending with the sharp pain of loss. I enjoyed my 15 years of the Wolfman. I hope he’s breathing easy and chasing butterflies in that great kitty heaven above.
Yesterday, when I got home, and immediately after letting Kira out to do her business, I saw (rather than heard) Wolfie struggling in the kitchen. He was crouched down, with his neck stretched out, and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was desperately struggling to breathe. I grabbed the phone and called our vet’s office to say I was watching a cat suffocate before my eyes. “Bring him in.” Usually, he meows during the drive to and from the vet, but yesterday night he couldn’t get enough air to say anything. As soon as I got him in, they took him back and started him on oxygen, which eased his breathing somewhat.
Wolfie has had asthma for the past 8 or 9 years. They suggested steroids when it started, but my research on steroids made me VERY suspect. If steroids are bad for humans, why would they be any better for cats? They weaken the kidneys and are bad for the heart. He would have to be given a pill every morning and every evening, and he absolutely HATES pills. Daily is a dream when it comes to pills, but Wolfie (as sweet as he is), fights every inch of the way. Imagine forcing a pill down that cat’s throat every day for the past 8 years…
Well, the asthma caught up with him yesterday. The vet immediately started him on oxygen and gave him albuterol and steroids and antibiotics. They wanted to keep him for observation, so I went back to see him, and when I petted him he leaned back into my hand, and looked so much more comfortable with the oxygen, which the technician was holding up to his face. Then they called me at 9:00 p.m. and said he really needed to be watched during the night and could we take him to a 24-hour facility (about 20 miles away). We paid our $300 there and took him to the emergency clinic, where they immediately put him in an oxygen cage. The vet told us that the x-ray of his chest showed a collapsed lung, and that he has a heart murmur, as well as a secondary infection along with the asthma.
But this is what is so difficult for us right now: when we were kids, vets didn’t do all these heroics to save family pets. They just said: “well, it’s time to let him go.” But now, vets have their own form of “Hippocratic oath” and will try to do anything to save an animal, regardless of the long-range outcome. This vet was really good when it came to trying to save Wolfie. She said, keep him on oxygen for three days, let the antibiotics take effect on the secondary infection, let the steroids help get rid of the asthma, and see if he doesn’t come around. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? Can we inflate the collapsed lung, I ask. Well, no, it would be too dangerous. Then she adds that what actually looks like a collapsed lung may be pneumonia (which is not really as common in cats as you might think). Or, it may be blockage due to the asthma. Will he be able to come off of the oxygen in a couple of days? Well, we hope so. Will we be able to get rid of the asthma with the steroids? That is the plan and the hope. How much to leave him over night? $1500! (OMG) Three days? $4500 (Triple OMG). What happens after three days if he is not able to get off of the oxygen? We can reassess the options then.
Wow! Smack me in the face! OK, so, now we have a 15-year-old cat, with a collapsed lung, heart murmur, severe asthma, and an inability to breathe without oxygen. If we clear up the asthma, how long will do we think that will last? Unknown. So, in other words, I could come home someday and see him gasping like a fish again, or worse, find a poor little cat body with a horrific look on its face from suffocating to death. Do we leave him there, in the comfort of an oxygen cage for however long it takes, or do we take him home and try to administer an albuterol inhaler when he has trouble breathing? Well, no, you can’t take the albuterol home because it causes stress on the heart and he needs to be monitored.
In the end, we left him over night, at a negotiated much-reduced cost. This morning at 5:00, the vet tried to take him off of the oxygen for 30 minutes, and he went into breathing distress. H and I discussed the situation. Feeling like total and complete heels, we decided it was time to let him go. We phoned the emergency vet with our decision. But when H got to the emergency clinic (I simply could not accompany him, after my experience with Ziggy last March), they had Wolfie in the crate, ready to be brought home to face another day. I think they did not want to be the ones to put him to sleep…sending us a clear message of their displeasure with us, maybe? H called me when he got to the house and said Woofums was in terrible distress. Kira and Daily were very upset…they knew Wolfie was in bad shape. H said he understood what I had felt yesterday. It brought tears to his eyes. In fact, I have tears in mine right now with the memory. So he took Wolfie to our regular vet to do the sad final deed. He says that by the time he got there, Wolfie was laying on his side with his head (wet from Kira’s administrations) against the side of the carrier, struggling. The vet took one look at him and said he looked much worse than he had yesterday, before the oxygen. Personally, I think the oxygen may have helped him in the short run, but it created a dependency that made him worse in the long run.
We could have done what the emergency vet suggested: we could have spent a lot of money keeping him going in an oxygen cage for a week or so (ka-ching, ka-ching), in the hopes that we would clear up the infection, might clear up the asthma (not likely, considering that he has had it at least 8 years), perhaps address the heart murmur, maybe clear the collapsed lung (if it is pneumonia). And then who knows how long he would live after all that, my geriatric little cat?
This morning, when we were discussing all the “options,” I told H that I just could not make the decision, and would he please make it for me (you know what decision I was talking about, of course). He said “will you still love me after I do?” Heck, I think I love him even more for having done it and keeping me from having to say the obvious. I mean, I had already come to the conclusion that I wanted HIM to take responsibility for but could not bring myself to cast the deciding vote. What a wimp I am. H did it.
So, my sweet tomato-snatching Wolfgang Amadeus Sunwolf Lightfoot (named by my Elusive Offspring, and you will recognize my blog name) is gone now. At lunch, my friend Janet and I toasted our cats and their ability to give us years of great pleasure, ending with the sharp pain of loss. I enjoyed my 15 years of the Wolfman. I hope he’s breathing easy and chasing butterflies in that great kitty heaven above.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Excellent Artsy Weekend
Last week was a rough one at work. On one of the days, I came in early to get ready for an early meeting, went to that meeting and went back to my office to start to send an e-mail to the team, while I was doing that someone called and I started an e-mail related to the call, while I was doing that someone came into my office and I started yet another e-mail...answered phone calls, went to discuss options with people in my cases. Those three e-mails, all started before 11:00 in the morning, did not get sent until around 1:30, at which time I was able to get lunch. The day was like that. Needless to say, I was SO ready for my weekend, and it did not disappoint.
Saturday, I went to the movie theater with my friend Janet to see the High Def showing of the Met's matinee performance of La Sonambula, a Bellini bel canto opera. I had never seen (or heard) it before, so it was a new experience for me. The music was beautiful, but the story was quite a bit more melodramatic than the usual opera. It did not turn me off, of course. I still enjoyed it immensely. Natalie Dessay and Juan Diego Florez played the leading roles, and they are both beautiful people with beautiful voices.
After the opera, Janet and I went to dinner and talked about music, books, poetry, stitching, art, trips to foreign lands, and had a very nice time. The opera started at 1:00 in the afternoon and we were finished with dinner by 6:00, so I got home early enough to tell my favorite husband there was still time to go out and get my copy of the Twilight DVD... hehehehe. Which we did. Good man. And then we settled in to watch it. We each got a beverage of choice -- H had Scotch, of course, and I had something called "blueberry tea" which my friend Mary taught me to make. There is no blueberry in this concoction. There is hot tea (I use chai tea) and a shot of amareto and a shot of Cointreau...and it's very yummy. And air popped popcorn. Lights out. OK, so it's a movie about teenage love, with vampires in it. When it was finished, H says to me: "Well, it was not as stupid as you led me to believe. It was actually rather good." Hah! I led him to believe it was stupid??? I don't THINK so! I don't think I ever said it was stupid. Maybe my elusive offspring told him that. Maybe he got the idea from listening to me and my friends acting sheepish about enjoying the books and the movie, um, multiple times. I mean, I did manage to see it four times in the theater, but that's because different friends needed someone to go with them, and I'm such an amenable friend. OK, so it was a good Saturday night.
Sunday, I had breakfast with my friend Nancy, while H played golf with Steve. Then I went with Janet to hear a wonderful piano recital by Olga Kern. She was amazing! She started the first half with a Haydn sonata and the Brahms variations on a theme from Paganini (lots of composers played with that theme...Rachmaninoff and Liszt included).
After he intermission, she was supposed to start with Chopin, but she said "There will be a slight change in the program. I think that no piano concert can be complete without Rachmaninoff so I will be playing the Second Sonata." Slight change??? Wow! I was so excited. I almost thought she had been listening to me during the intermission when I said to Janet that I was sorry that there was no Rachmaninoff on the agenda (my all time favorite composer, with Beethoven almost neck and neck). I was delighted with the change. Of course, I love Chopin, too, but given the choice, Rachmaninoff would always win for me. The audience did not seem disappointed either. Clearly, she loves Rachmaninoff, too. She played with such passion...I think there was one point where she was almost in tears herself. Cool! Then she ended with Liszt's Rhapsodie Espagnole (which also includes the Paganini theme). She did three encores...first, she played "Sparkle" (I think the composer may be Chen Yi), which I had never heard before. Then she played a Rachmaninoff piano/cello sonata with the president of the Washington Performing Arts Society (he appears to be a cellist, and a rather good one at that), and then she finished with another of my favorites, since I was a kid: the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 (another Liszt). That was a real crowd pleaser...of course.
Very powerful and impressive. I'm not trying to be sexist when I say that I rarely hear women play with such strength...although our seats were on the wrong side of the piano and we could not see her hands as she played (and her fingers FLEW), I waited to see her hands. They are not long, elegant fingers. She has muscular hands and fingers and I would liken her hands to those of a farm girl more than a model. Very strong. Very controlled. I am always impressed by someone who can play Liszt...supposedly, each of his hands spanned twelve piano keys! I don't know if that's true, but I can barely get nine. Stupid short fingers. If you look at a photo of Liszt, you can see that he has very long fingers.
Back to Olga Kern. She's not only extremely talented (the first woman to win the Van Cliburn Competition in 30 years), but she is beautiful. She came onto the stage wearing a strapless form-fitting teal gown that flared like a flamenco dress below the knees. What a flat stomach! Arghhh. (OK I'm jealous of a woman who can play the piano like that, and LOOK so damned gorgeous at the same time). After the intermission, she surprised us by coming onto the stage in a golden ensemble, again very form fitting, with bits of ostrich feathers here and there on the long tight skirt. It was beautiful. Granted, I would have been impressed JUST to hear her...but I'm glad I got to see her, too.
OK, so I was obviously more impressed by the piano recital than the opera...but that happens. I have not been able to stop thinking about it.
We went out to dinner after the concert, and I got home somewhere between 8 and 8:30...at which point I immediately went back to reading "The Green Years" (the A.H. Cronin book my friend Tracy recommended). I had a hard time putting it down to go to sleep, and when I woke this morning at 6:00, I decided I just had to finish it before I went to work. Took me about 45 minutes. It was a good book. It put me in mind of Angela's Ashes, but I liked it so much better because the character was not completely down all the time. I don't expect to ever read Angela's Ashes again, but I could see myself reading The Green Years again some day. But first, I have SO many other books on my reading list.
I'm in the mood for Liszt...I think I will play "Totentanz." On the iPod, silly, not on the piano. Sigh...
Saturday, I went to the movie theater with my friend Janet to see the High Def showing of the Met's matinee performance of La Sonambula, a Bellini bel canto opera. I had never seen (or heard) it before, so it was a new experience for me. The music was beautiful, but the story was quite a bit more melodramatic than the usual opera. It did not turn me off, of course. I still enjoyed it immensely. Natalie Dessay and Juan Diego Florez played the leading roles, and they are both beautiful people with beautiful voices.
After the opera, Janet and I went to dinner and talked about music, books, poetry, stitching, art, trips to foreign lands, and had a very nice time. The opera started at 1:00 in the afternoon and we were finished with dinner by 6:00, so I got home early enough to tell my favorite husband there was still time to go out and get my copy of the Twilight DVD... hehehehe. Which we did. Good man. And then we settled in to watch it. We each got a beverage of choice -- H had Scotch, of course, and I had something called "blueberry tea" which my friend Mary taught me to make. There is no blueberry in this concoction. There is hot tea (I use chai tea) and a shot of amareto and a shot of Cointreau...and it's very yummy. And air popped popcorn. Lights out. OK, so it's a movie about teenage love, with vampires in it. When it was finished, H says to me: "Well, it was not as stupid as you led me to believe. It was actually rather good." Hah! I led him to believe it was stupid??? I don't THINK so! I don't think I ever said it was stupid. Maybe my elusive offspring told him that. Maybe he got the idea from listening to me and my friends acting sheepish about enjoying the books and the movie, um, multiple times. I mean, I did manage to see it four times in the theater, but that's because different friends needed someone to go with them, and I'm such an amenable friend. OK, so it was a good Saturday night.
Sunday, I had breakfast with my friend Nancy, while H played golf with Steve. Then I went with Janet to hear a wonderful piano recital by Olga Kern. She was amazing! She started the first half with a Haydn sonata and the Brahms variations on a theme from Paganini (lots of composers played with that theme...Rachmaninoff and Liszt included).
After he intermission, she was supposed to start with Chopin, but she said "There will be a slight change in the program. I think that no piano concert can be complete without Rachmaninoff so I will be playing the Second Sonata." Slight change??? Wow! I was so excited. I almost thought she had been listening to me during the intermission when I said to Janet that I was sorry that there was no Rachmaninoff on the agenda (my all time favorite composer, with Beethoven almost neck and neck). I was delighted with the change. Of course, I love Chopin, too, but given the choice, Rachmaninoff would always win for me. The audience did not seem disappointed either. Clearly, she loves Rachmaninoff, too. She played with such passion...I think there was one point where she was almost in tears herself. Cool! Then she ended with Liszt's Rhapsodie Espagnole (which also includes the Paganini theme). She did three encores...first, she played "Sparkle" (I think the composer may be Chen Yi), which I had never heard before. Then she played a Rachmaninoff piano/cello sonata with the president of the Washington Performing Arts Society (he appears to be a cellist, and a rather good one at that), and then she finished with another of my favorites, since I was a kid: the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 (another Liszt). That was a real crowd pleaser...of course.
Very powerful and impressive. I'm not trying to be sexist when I say that I rarely hear women play with such strength...although our seats were on the wrong side of the piano and we could not see her hands as she played (and her fingers FLEW), I waited to see her hands. They are not long, elegant fingers. She has muscular hands and fingers and I would liken her hands to those of a farm girl more than a model. Very strong. Very controlled. I am always impressed by someone who can play Liszt...supposedly, each of his hands spanned twelve piano keys! I don't know if that's true, but I can barely get nine. Stupid short fingers. If you look at a photo of Liszt, you can see that he has very long fingers.
Back to Olga Kern. She's not only extremely talented (the first woman to win the Van Cliburn Competition in 30 years), but she is beautiful. She came onto the stage wearing a strapless form-fitting teal gown that flared like a flamenco dress below the knees. What a flat stomach! Arghhh. (OK I'm jealous of a woman who can play the piano like that, and LOOK so damned gorgeous at the same time). After the intermission, she surprised us by coming onto the stage in a golden ensemble, again very form fitting, with bits of ostrich feathers here and there on the long tight skirt. It was beautiful. Granted, I would have been impressed JUST to hear her...but I'm glad I got to see her, too.
OK, so I was obviously more impressed by the piano recital than the opera...but that happens. I have not been able to stop thinking about it.
We went out to dinner after the concert, and I got home somewhere between 8 and 8:30...at which point I immediately went back to reading "The Green Years" (the A.H. Cronin book my friend Tracy recommended). I had a hard time putting it down to go to sleep, and when I woke this morning at 6:00, I decided I just had to finish it before I went to work. Took me about 45 minutes. It was a good book. It put me in mind of Angela's Ashes, but I liked it so much better because the character was not completely down all the time. I don't expect to ever read Angela's Ashes again, but I could see myself reading The Green Years again some day. But first, I have SO many other books on my reading list.
I'm in the mood for Liszt...I think I will play "Totentanz." On the iPod, silly, not on the piano. Sigh...
Monday, March 16, 2009
Working and Playing
I have been really working hard at the office lately. It's very stressful, and yet satisfying. That seems strange to me, a sort of dichotomy. I have a settlement/technical conference tomorrow, so I decided to get in VERY early this morning so I could go through documents and filings to be really prepared, and I think I am. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. I'd really like to achieve a settlement in this case. It's been a difficult one, with aggressive personalities and clashing ideas. Still, it really should settle.
But, in addition to working full days (and some evenings and weekends as well), I have managed to fit in a lot of reading, stitching, piano playing and socializing. I can't believe how many books I have read since I got my pony (Kindle). On the Kindle, I read all three "Dexter" books (about the serial killer who only kills serial killers). I liked the first book, felt lukewarm about the second, and really didn't care for the third. On the other hand, I absolutely love the television series (on Showtime). I also finished three more Alexander Kent (Bolitho) novels, and a book called "Beat the Reaper" by Josh Bazell. That last book was all right. I think it had a lot more potential than it actually realized (this one was a book about a mob hitman who became a doctor to try to hide from his past, unsuccessfully, I might add). I will admit that it was very humorous, with a clever turn of phrase. After all that blood and gore, I decided I needed something a lot more gentle. So I read Anne of Green Gables, and I am currently reading Anne of Avonlea. All that on the Kindle. But of course, the Kindle has not taken me away from the beloved paper books. I read a couple of Alexander Kent novels and Life With Father (Clarence Day), which I've read a couple of times and absolutely love. It's worth reading many times over. I am currently reading a very good book by A.H. Cronin, called The Green Years, recommended by my best friend Tracy. The interesting thing is that I now find myself reading two books at the same time...one on the Kindle and one in paper. It is wonderful to escape into another world.
I've also been stitching some nice needlepoint pieces. I will photograph some and post them soon. I usually stitch in the evening, while watching television...Chuck or CSI or some such. Which is interesting. Although I'm focusing on the stitching, I nevertheless enjoy the show. If a few weeks later a show is repeated, I usually find myself thinking, oh, I haven't seen this one yet...that's because I probably haven't seen it...I listened to it while stitching. So it's a new experience for me to actually watch it.
Then, last week, I sat down at the piano and started playing again. I was inspired by Blue Keys to start playing. I have not played in years and, wow, my poor fingers know it! Once upon a time, I was very good. But now, I find myself stumbling around over the keyboard, hitting the wrong keys, timing off, fingering off. And forget theory! Still, I am enjoying my little bit of time at the piano. Right now, I am re-learning Handel's Sarabande...it's so dramatic for a baroque piece. I need to get the piano tuned soon.
All this and my project room, too. My back is really sore from moving boxes and reorganizing...
So, my life is very rich right now. But please excuse me while I return to The Green Years for a half an hour before going to bed.
But, in addition to working full days (and some evenings and weekends as well), I have managed to fit in a lot of reading, stitching, piano playing and socializing. I can't believe how many books I have read since I got my pony (Kindle). On the Kindle, I read all three "Dexter" books (about the serial killer who only kills serial killers). I liked the first book, felt lukewarm about the second, and really didn't care for the third. On the other hand, I absolutely love the television series (on Showtime). I also finished three more Alexander Kent (Bolitho) novels, and a book called "Beat the Reaper" by Josh Bazell. That last book was all right. I think it had a lot more potential than it actually realized (this one was a book about a mob hitman who became a doctor to try to hide from his past, unsuccessfully, I might add). I will admit that it was very humorous, with a clever turn of phrase. After all that blood and gore, I decided I needed something a lot more gentle. So I read Anne of Green Gables, and I am currently reading Anne of Avonlea. All that on the Kindle. But of course, the Kindle has not taken me away from the beloved paper books. I read a couple of Alexander Kent novels and Life With Father (Clarence Day), which I've read a couple of times and absolutely love. It's worth reading many times over. I am currently reading a very good book by A.H. Cronin, called The Green Years, recommended by my best friend Tracy. The interesting thing is that I now find myself reading two books at the same time...one on the Kindle and one in paper. It is wonderful to escape into another world.
I've also been stitching some nice needlepoint pieces. I will photograph some and post them soon. I usually stitch in the evening, while watching television...Chuck or CSI or some such. Which is interesting. Although I'm focusing on the stitching, I nevertheless enjoy the show. If a few weeks later a show is repeated, I usually find myself thinking, oh, I haven't seen this one yet...that's because I probably haven't seen it...I listened to it while stitching. So it's a new experience for me to actually watch it.
Then, last week, I sat down at the piano and started playing again. I was inspired by Blue Keys to start playing. I have not played in years and, wow, my poor fingers know it! Once upon a time, I was very good. But now, I find myself stumbling around over the keyboard, hitting the wrong keys, timing off, fingering off. And forget theory! Still, I am enjoying my little bit of time at the piano. Right now, I am re-learning Handel's Sarabande...it's so dramatic for a baroque piece. I need to get the piano tuned soon.
All this and my project room, too. My back is really sore from moving boxes and reorganizing...
So, my life is very rich right now. But please excuse me while I return to The Green Years for a half an hour before going to bed.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
My Interview with RunningMyMassOff
About a month ago, RunningMyMassOff sent me some questions to "interview me" and finally I am posting my answers. Being interviewed like this is very interesting. If you'd like me to interview you, just ask, and I'll think up some questions for you. Then you can post the questions and answers on your blog...in the meantime, here are RMMO's questions and my answers.
1. What has been the biggest challenge/obstacle in your life and what did you do to overcome it?
The biggest challenge…probably deciding what I want to be when I grow up… this is an ongoing problem. I really love what I do. I am probably exactly where I should be…a government litigator. I worked for two different large law firms and ultimately left. I did not like their politics of doing business. The interesting billing schemes (and yes, I mean schemes). The egos. The sleaze factor. The social deviates (my favorite husband’s term). Although I took a giant pay cut to return to the government, I knew I really was going where I belonged…as a public interest lawyer. I like winning cases, but I really feel successful when my cases settle, without the need for costly litigation. After all is said and done, though, I think I would love to retire early (or to be more realistic I should say retire late, now that the economy has tanked so badly, and my investments with it) and spend my time in creative endeavors, especially painting little watercolors (I like miniatures). And designing needlework. And art jewelry. Creative stuff.
2. What has been the favorite performance you've seen (opera, symphony, musical, play, etc.) and why did it make such an impact on you?
I would have to say that my favorite performance (and this is going to sound corny) would be any performance by my son, whether singing or acting, and although he was really good in so many plays, my all time favorite is the time he played/sang the part of the Major General in his high school’s production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Pirates of Penzance.” I know I’m his mom and I’m biased, but he really was probably the handsomest Major General in the history of the musical…I mean, the Major General is supposed to be an old grey-bearded guy, but not this time. The elusive one was quite striking with his curly ginger hair and deep sideburns, and what a lovely voice. I absolutely love to hear him sing. Of course, I enjoy other performances, too…plays, operas, musicals, movies…I like entertainment. And I like to be entertained. Today, I went with my friend Janet to see a simulcast of the Met's production of "Madama Butterfly" and it was absolutely beautiful. I love Puccini. I think I have probably said that before...
3. If you were to select a novel/series in which you could be a character (either an existing character or a new one), what novel/series would it be and why?
It would definitely have to be a Jane Austen book, and probably Emma or Elizabeth Bennett. Emma had a lively mind, and was terribly bored, I think, and therefore spent her time trying to play matchmaker. Because she succeeded at it one time, she was sure she could match anyone anywhere, and almost messed up her own future. Elizabeth Bennett was a great character because she was so feisty, and at the same time very self-possessed. Of course, I would want to be a character with lots of money, because if I had to live back then, I really wouldn't want to spend my time on the day-to-day necessities of life. On the other hand, I would not want to live then. Without the internet? Without cellphones (or any phones for that matter). Without cars and airplanes? Or even bicycles at that point! Without CDs or iPods??? Or radios or television (see, I really do like to be entertained). No electricity. No air conditioning! Yikes, I think I will stay right here and now…
4. What do you miss most about living in Texas?
I miss my family very much. The warm weather. The slower, more relaxed atmosphere (living in the DC area can be rough), but I have to admit that to me it feels even more relaxed in LA! The ability to get out and do stuff. Horses and western riding. Houston. The proud Texas history. Yet, even as I say that, I believe that I am no longer a Texan. I have been away so long that I don’t think I would be comfortable living in Texas any more. I love living here now. I have Potomac fever and it’s never gone away.
5. If you could choose any dream vacation (money not an issue), where would you go, who would you take with you, and what would you do?
This is a difficult one. If money were no object, my dream vacation would be to take several months and visit lots of countries, starting with Scotland, England and Ireland, then France and Germany and Spain and Italy. I would love to take a cruise of the fiords in Norway. I'd bring my little paint set with me everywhere, and my wonderful digital camera. There were no digital cameras in Jane Austen's time.
So, those are my answers to the interview. Remember, if you want to be interviewed, let me know, and I'll come up with some questions. It may take me a little while, but be patient.
1. What has been the biggest challenge/obstacle in your life and what did you do to overcome it?
The biggest challenge…probably deciding what I want to be when I grow up… this is an ongoing problem. I really love what I do. I am probably exactly where I should be…a government litigator. I worked for two different large law firms and ultimately left. I did not like their politics of doing business. The interesting billing schemes (and yes, I mean schemes). The egos. The sleaze factor. The social deviates (my favorite husband’s term). Although I took a giant pay cut to return to the government, I knew I really was going where I belonged…as a public interest lawyer. I like winning cases, but I really feel successful when my cases settle, without the need for costly litigation. After all is said and done, though, I think I would love to retire early (or to be more realistic I should say retire late, now that the economy has tanked so badly, and my investments with it) and spend my time in creative endeavors, especially painting little watercolors (I like miniatures). And designing needlework. And art jewelry. Creative stuff.
2. What has been the favorite performance you've seen (opera, symphony, musical, play, etc.) and why did it make such an impact on you?
I would have to say that my favorite performance (and this is going to sound corny) would be any performance by my son, whether singing or acting, and although he was really good in so many plays, my all time favorite is the time he played/sang the part of the Major General in his high school’s production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Pirates of Penzance.” I know I’m his mom and I’m biased, but he really was probably the handsomest Major General in the history of the musical…I mean, the Major General is supposed to be an old grey-bearded guy, but not this time. The elusive one was quite striking with his curly ginger hair and deep sideburns, and what a lovely voice. I absolutely love to hear him sing. Of course, I enjoy other performances, too…plays, operas, musicals, movies…I like entertainment. And I like to be entertained. Today, I went with my friend Janet to see a simulcast of the Met's production of "Madama Butterfly" and it was absolutely beautiful. I love Puccini. I think I have probably said that before...
3. If you were to select a novel/series in which you could be a character (either an existing character or a new one), what novel/series would it be and why?
It would definitely have to be a Jane Austen book, and probably Emma or Elizabeth Bennett. Emma had a lively mind, and was terribly bored, I think, and therefore spent her time trying to play matchmaker. Because she succeeded at it one time, she was sure she could match anyone anywhere, and almost messed up her own future. Elizabeth Bennett was a great character because she was so feisty, and at the same time very self-possessed. Of course, I would want to be a character with lots of money, because if I had to live back then, I really wouldn't want to spend my time on the day-to-day necessities of life. On the other hand, I would not want to live then. Without the internet? Without cellphones (or any phones for that matter). Without cars and airplanes? Or even bicycles at that point! Without CDs or iPods??? Or radios or television (see, I really do like to be entertained). No electricity. No air conditioning! Yikes, I think I will stay right here and now…
4. What do you miss most about living in Texas?
I miss my family very much. The warm weather. The slower, more relaxed atmosphere (living in the DC area can be rough), but I have to admit that to me it feels even more relaxed in LA! The ability to get out and do stuff. Horses and western riding. Houston. The proud Texas history. Yet, even as I say that, I believe that I am no longer a Texan. I have been away so long that I don’t think I would be comfortable living in Texas any more. I love living here now. I have Potomac fever and it’s never gone away.
5. If you could choose any dream vacation (money not an issue), where would you go, who would you take with you, and what would you do?
This is a difficult one. If money were no object, my dream vacation would be to take several months and visit lots of countries, starting with Scotland, England and Ireland, then France and Germany and Spain and Italy. I would love to take a cruise of the fiords in Norway. I'd bring my little paint set with me everywhere, and my wonderful digital camera. There were no digital cameras in Jane Austen's time.
So, those are my answers to the interview. Remember, if you want to be interviewed, let me know, and I'll come up with some questions. It may take me a little while, but be patient.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Operation: Project Room/Guest Room
I know it's been a long time since I have written. The week after Valentine's Day, I got very sick with some sort of sinus infection/flu/cold thingy and completely LOST four and a half entire days. I mean LOST those days entirely, and the infection/whatever actually lasted about a week, making it hard to accomplish anything. Then I got very involved in trying to reclaim the "project room/guest room" from the disaster it had become. For some time now I have called it the "explosion room." It's the place I would throw stuff to get it out of the way when people came over for a visit, or when the cleaning lady came (I always told her to ignore that room), or any other number of things would cause me to make a mess of that room. And when my sister (Girl from Texas) came for Christmas, I stuck her in that room...how awful of me! She, nice person that she is, never complained. But now things will be different! She will have a very nice accommodation.
Last Thursday, my favorite husband took me to Ikea, where we found two wonderful white bookshelves, with glass doors, both six feet tall and so roomy. All of my projects have been organized neatly in those bookshelves. We are talking about a lot of different kinds of project, from memory books to painting to beading to knitting to needlepointing and sewing, and any number of fun creative activities to entertain an active mind. I still have about a dozen boxes of papers and stuff to go through, and that will happen slowly over time, but I filled three boxes and two bags with stuff for Good Will, shredded some paperwork (but not enough), organized projects that can be finished quickly, and cleaned my desk, which makes me want to spend more time in this room!
Today, Sara, my cleaning lady, came. I love my cleaning lady. I told her today that I love to see her because she always makes me feel so good about my space. I think she should get a cleaning lady for HER house. Then she will know just how happy she makes people. She is one of the sweetest people I have ever met. I'm waxing poetic...you'd think I'd overdosed on caffeine the way I am going on right now, but it is simply that I am in a good mood because the house is really coming together. For the first time in at least eight years (since we started renovating this old house of ours).
The next post will be my answers to an interview I got from "Running My Mass Off" a few weeks ago. I started answering the questions, but have not finished yet. Stay tuned. This interviewing thing is fun.
Gotta go. Must start going through some more boxes...and finishing some of these pending projects.
Last Thursday, my favorite husband took me to Ikea, where we found two wonderful white bookshelves, with glass doors, both six feet tall and so roomy. All of my projects have been organized neatly in those bookshelves. We are talking about a lot of different kinds of project, from memory books to painting to beading to knitting to needlepointing and sewing, and any number of fun creative activities to entertain an active mind. I still have about a dozen boxes of papers and stuff to go through, and that will happen slowly over time, but I filled three boxes and two bags with stuff for Good Will, shredded some paperwork (but not enough), organized projects that can be finished quickly, and cleaned my desk, which makes me want to spend more time in this room!
Today, Sara, my cleaning lady, came. I love my cleaning lady. I told her today that I love to see her because she always makes me feel so good about my space. I think she should get a cleaning lady for HER house. Then she will know just how happy she makes people. She is one of the sweetest people I have ever met. I'm waxing poetic...you'd think I'd overdosed on caffeine the way I am going on right now, but it is simply that I am in a good mood because the house is really coming together. For the first time in at least eight years (since we started renovating this old house of ours).
The next post will be my answers to an interview I got from "Running My Mass Off" a few weeks ago. I started answering the questions, but have not finished yet. Stay tuned. This interviewing thing is fun.
Gotta go. Must start going through some more boxes...and finishing some of these pending projects.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Menopausal Tourette Syndrome
It's been a long time. I have been complaining that my time has not been my own lately. Every weekend has been taken up with doing stuff for other people. Even when I thought I was going to have my day off this past Friday, it turns out that I ended up with a new case and spent 3 hours on the computer, working from home...longer, actually, counting the time I worked OFF the computer.
So I have decided I have "Menopausal Tourettes." I'll explain. Friends of mine, who are ahead of me in the process of life, have warned me of what to expect. They tell me: "Oh, just you wait for the hot flashes (or power surges as one friend says)." Another says "You're going to LOVE the night sweats" (said with acidic sarcasm). Your hair will fall out (my hair is fine, thank you very much). Your skin will dry up (I am grateful for good moisturizers). You'll gain weight, they say (I weigh the same as I have for three years now, and I would STILL like to lose 30 pounds). But no one, absolutely NO ONE, told me about this problem of what I call "Menopausal Tourette Syndrome."
A week ago, I was at a board meeting...it was just a needlepoint guild board meeting, for goodness sake. Nothing of mind boggling importance. Just a needlepoint board meeting. Needlepoint, get it? Until May, I am Secretary (I have held other positions on the board as well). At this meeting, for some reason, every item we talked about caused major contentious discussions among us. It was ridiculous. Very annoying. I was exhausted. Finally, as people left, we were down to three of us, including the president (a friend), at whose house we were meeting. We started discussing some issue, and one thing led to another and I was trying to make a point and the president kept interrupting me, and finally she said: "No more discussion. I've decided the issue and what I say goes" (or something to that effect).
Now, I'm usually a very calm, easy-going person, with lots of patience. But that response made me see red. I rage inside when people talk over me or refuse to allow me to finish a thought. I looked at her and said calmly (but not easy-goingly): "F... You." Nothing more. Menopausal Tourettes. I was actually quite mortified! Where the F did that come from!!! But she stood up and pointed at the door and said: "Leave this house!" At which point, I stood up and put everything in my bag to leave. "I don't like that language," she says. Now, do I simply apologize to her for using offensive language? No. Of course not. Instead, I say, "It's just a F-ing word." Oops. Before she can say anything, my other friend says..."sit down, both of you." "No," I say, "the hostess has asked me to leave, as is her right. I'm leaving." Eventually, everyone calms down and we end up sitting at the table, finishing the discussion. I was physically and mentally drained. The nice thing about this friend is that she is very forgiving and when we were finished with the meeting I looked at her and grinned and said "Now, may I give you a hug?" She laughed, we hugged and all was good. That was about 10 days ago. Tonight I saw her and you'd never guess anything had happened.
What I really love is this: as I said, I was mortified by my outburst, and I didn't want to tell my husband what I had said to her. I felt so ashamed! That lasted about an hour after I got home. Then I told him. Sheepishly. What do you think he did? He burst out laughing and said "I'm surprised it's taken you this long!" He freakin' laughed! I was very surprised by that response. So, later, I told my Elusive Offspring (who was home on break until this past Saturday) and his friend. Do you know what their response was? They burst out laughing. What is it about men, I wondered, that they burst out laughing at the idea of my saying "F you" to someone. Well, they say, it's funny to them because men always do that to each other. Do you know, I think that's true. The other funny thing to them is: "it's the last thing I expected you to tell us that you said."
But see? I've always had this reputation as a gracious southern lady, always saying nice things to people, never showing annoyance or frustration. I've always been the mediator, bringing people together. But now what? Menopausal tourettes. Dragon lady with flaming red hair. Oh, the shame of it all!
So I have decided I have "Menopausal Tourettes." I'll explain. Friends of mine, who are ahead of me in the process of life, have warned me of what to expect. They tell me: "Oh, just you wait for the hot flashes (or power surges as one friend says)." Another says "You're going to LOVE the night sweats" (said with acidic sarcasm). Your hair will fall out (my hair is fine, thank you very much). Your skin will dry up (I am grateful for good moisturizers). You'll gain weight, they say (I weigh the same as I have for three years now, and I would STILL like to lose 30 pounds). But no one, absolutely NO ONE, told me about this problem of what I call "Menopausal Tourette Syndrome."
A week ago, I was at a board meeting...it was just a needlepoint guild board meeting, for goodness sake. Nothing of mind boggling importance. Just a needlepoint board meeting. Needlepoint, get it? Until May, I am Secretary (I have held other positions on the board as well). At this meeting, for some reason, every item we talked about caused major contentious discussions among us. It was ridiculous. Very annoying. I was exhausted. Finally, as people left, we were down to three of us, including the president (a friend), at whose house we were meeting. We started discussing some issue, and one thing led to another and I was trying to make a point and the president kept interrupting me, and finally she said: "No more discussion. I've decided the issue and what I say goes" (or something to that effect).
Now, I'm usually a very calm, easy-going person, with lots of patience. But that response made me see red. I rage inside when people talk over me or refuse to allow me to finish a thought. I looked at her and said calmly (but not easy-goingly): "F... You." Nothing more. Menopausal Tourettes. I was actually quite mortified! Where the F did that come from!!! But she stood up and pointed at the door and said: "Leave this house!" At which point, I stood up and put everything in my bag to leave. "I don't like that language," she says. Now, do I simply apologize to her for using offensive language? No. Of course not. Instead, I say, "It's just a F-ing word." Oops. Before she can say anything, my other friend says..."sit down, both of you." "No," I say, "the hostess has asked me to leave, as is her right. I'm leaving." Eventually, everyone calms down and we end up sitting at the table, finishing the discussion. I was physically and mentally drained. The nice thing about this friend is that she is very forgiving and when we were finished with the meeting I looked at her and grinned and said "Now, may I give you a hug?" She laughed, we hugged and all was good. That was about 10 days ago. Tonight I saw her and you'd never guess anything had happened.
What I really love is this: as I said, I was mortified by my outburst, and I didn't want to tell my husband what I had said to her. I felt so ashamed! That lasted about an hour after I got home. Then I told him. Sheepishly. What do you think he did? He burst out laughing and said "I'm surprised it's taken you this long!" He freakin' laughed! I was very surprised by that response. So, later, I told my Elusive Offspring (who was home on break until this past Saturday) and his friend. Do you know what their response was? They burst out laughing. What is it about men, I wondered, that they burst out laughing at the idea of my saying "F you" to someone. Well, they say, it's funny to them because men always do that to each other. Do you know, I think that's true. The other funny thing to them is: "it's the last thing I expected you to tell us that you said."
But see? I've always had this reputation as a gracious southern lady, always saying nice things to people, never showing annoyance or frustration. I've always been the mediator, bringing people together. But now what? Menopausal tourettes. Dragon lady with flaming red hair. Oh, the shame of it all!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Inauguration Woes
I love Washington DC. It is a beautiful city. I love the monuments and the river and the military and even the tourists. But I can say that having witnessed the preparations for the Inauguration, I am happy that the Powers That Be decided to give a holiday to federal workers in the immediate area. The past two weeks, and especially the past week, have been a nightmare as far as getting out of the city is concerned. Normally, I can get home in 30 minutes, from office garage to my house, and a little over half of that time is in the city. Lately, however, it has taken me 30 minutes just to get from the office garage to the Potomac River, and then another 15-20 minutes to get home from there. Sometimes longer. For people who live in Virginia, all the main bridges will be closed to regular traffic on Inauguration Day, which means you could not get to work by car. And with 2-4 million people expected for the various Inauguration events, you can bet Metro will be too crowded and in demand to get to work that way. Same for buses, cabs, limos. And so, as you can see, I am glad to be off on Tuesday. And of course, Monday is also a holiday (MLK Day).
Only, my sister (Girl from Texas) will be here with her friend to witness this historic event. They want to go downtown for it. It will be bitterly cold (although not as cold as it was for Reagan's 1985 Inauguration), there will be more people than ever in history (if the predictions are to be believed), there probably won't be quite enough porta-potties, and there will be no easy way in or out of the city. People will be competing for the warmth of the museums (I know how those museums crowd up on the Forth of July, and that's usually attended by substantially fewer people than a million). So. I don't want to go. I told her I hoped she didn't mind if I stayed home in the warmth of my house and watched everything in high definition on my nice big screen TV (last year's Christmas gift to ourselves), and drink champagne and pop popcorn, and then maybe go outside later to watch any fireworks there might be...if there are any (I seem to remember fireworks for Elder Bush). My favorite husband says he will go along because he doesn't want to leave them to fend for themselves. He knows the city quite well. And if and when they want to get home, he will be able to show them the way. It's a three to six mile walk from our house, depending on whether they can cross Teddy Roosevelt Bridge or Memorial Bridge.
I'll be very interested to see if we get the predicted crowds...
Only, my sister (Girl from Texas) will be here with her friend to witness this historic event. They want to go downtown for it. It will be bitterly cold (although not as cold as it was for Reagan's 1985 Inauguration), there will be more people than ever in history (if the predictions are to be believed), there probably won't be quite enough porta-potties, and there will be no easy way in or out of the city. People will be competing for the warmth of the museums (I know how those museums crowd up on the Forth of July, and that's usually attended by substantially fewer people than a million). So. I don't want to go. I told her I hoped she didn't mind if I stayed home in the warmth of my house and watched everything in high definition on my nice big screen TV (last year's Christmas gift to ourselves), and drink champagne and pop popcorn, and then maybe go outside later to watch any fireworks there might be...if there are any (I seem to remember fireworks for Elder Bush). My favorite husband says he will go along because he doesn't want to leave them to fend for themselves. He knows the city quite well. And if and when they want to get home, he will be able to show them the way. It's a three to six mile walk from our house, depending on whether they can cross Teddy Roosevelt Bridge or Memorial Bridge.
I'll be very interested to see if we get the predicted crowds...
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Squirrely Story
I cannot resist posting this funny story that my favorite husband found on the Diesel Truck Resource website some time ago. I think it is wonderful.
Biker vs. Squirrel
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect...
I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an on coming car, a brown, furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and it must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves. Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt!
I was pretty sure the scream was Squirrel for "Bonzai!" or maybe "Die, you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular... He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans, this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing... I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH! Twisted Evil. Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of my throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved, not improved at all.
His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can have only one result.
Torque.
This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in ... well... I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration, I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle...my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time, the squirrel decided I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me.
As the face plate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.
Now picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large, puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade into your police car.
I heard screams.
This time they weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really...Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street aiming a riot gun at his own police car. So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.
That was one thing. The other?
Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car...but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.
Biker vs. Squirrel
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect...
I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an on coming car, a brown, furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and it must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves. Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt!
I was pretty sure the scream was Squirrel for "Bonzai!" or maybe "Die, you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular... He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans, this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing... I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH! Twisted Evil. Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of my throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved, not improved at all.
His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can have only one result.
Torque.
This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in ... well... I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration, I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle...my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time, the squirrel decided I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me.
As the face plate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.
Now picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large, puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade into your police car.
I heard screams.
This time they weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really...Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street aiming a riot gun at his own police car. So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.
That was one thing. The other?
Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car...but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Holiday Haitus
Gosh! I can't believe how long it has been since I have updated my blog or even read my favorite blogs. December was a crazy month for me, with the end of year office crazies, and my sister visiting for Christmas (yippee!), and the elusive offspring home for Christmas (double yippee!), and all the preparations and parties, and then suddenly the new year is on us, and I'm trying to get back into the swing of it all. There is so much I want to write about, but I will not do all of it. I'll get back into writing slowly. I want to read everyone else's blogs first.
I will say that I did indeed get my "pony"...the Kindle. And I have already downloaded so many books and finished reading a couple, too. My enthusiasm for the Kindle is responsible for at least two of my colleagues' getting it for Christmas, too! And they love it as well. All of us agree that it will not replace our physical books (who could ever give up paper books??), but it is a very nice little supplement.
I will say that I did indeed get my "pony"...the Kindle. And I have already downloaded so many books and finished reading a couple, too. My enthusiasm for the Kindle is responsible for at least two of my colleagues' getting it for Christmas, too! And they love it as well. All of us agree that it will not replace our physical books (who could ever give up paper books??), but it is a very nice little supplement.
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