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 |  Just play: don't look at your hands! |
What a dumb title for a person who never got a single star  on her piano lessons!Daily practice is the thing though: the practice of noticing as well as of writing.  However, I'd much rather play duets than solos, so hop right in! You can do the melody or the base part, I don't care.  Just play along--we'll make up the tune as we go. I'll try to write regularly and deliberately. Sometimes I will do it poorly, tritely, stiltedly, obscurely. I will try to persevere regardless. It seems to be where my heart wants to go, and that means to me that God wants me there too. See you tomorrow. ![Merit Badge in Journaling
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| Today the sun came out. It's been very foggy here for a week, and this afternoon was a wonderful change. I decided to call it a day after 4.5 hours and came home to get Lola. She has been a pest for the past few days, chewing pencils and anything else she can find handy, small and round. Like bottle caps, chapsticks, thread spools.... I thought I'd let her run for an hour at the dog park, then take communion to a shut-in, leaving Lola to catch a nap in the car. Fortunately the woman I was intending to visit around 3 p.m. didn't answer her phone, so I didn't confirm an appointment in advance. Lola was having far too much fun to be ready to leave, and I'd run into some friends I hadn't seen for a long time. All was well until a pair of pit bull-mix dogs started making trouble for my friend's young standard poodle. He strode over to the owner and told her to control her dogs, which she was unable to do. His dog ran for safety, but the other dog owner was irate. My friend Roy told her to remove her dogs from the park or he would notify the authorities. She called him names, of which "crazy" was the kindest. She demanded to see if his dog was bleeding, which she was not. That was not the point. His dog had been badly frightened. Even though I had been standing with Roy and his wife, this owner wanted my name and number so I could testify that her dogs were not aggressive. Although I had not witnessed the aggression, I had felt uneasy when they first came in and were near Lola. They were an intimidating pair, and one of them was wearing a muzzle, a tip that the owner had some awareness of their potential hazard. After a few more intimidating words from the owner, who appeared to have the same temperament as her dogs, they went down the hill toward the gate. At the same time, another woman was coming in with her golden lab. Although they were out of sight of us, we heard the commotion. The pair of dogs had evidently made a move on the old lab as well. No damage was done, but the pit-bull-lady was again furious that anyone should complain about her dogs. "All dogs are like that," she said. Everyone in earshot disagreed loudly. All dogs are not like that. I'm debating about hunting for another medium size dog to keep Lola company, maybe a Cairn terrier or something. Something that can run fast without being the size of a boxer or retriever. Lola is really fast! And she really loves, and needs, to chase and be chased. And right now she needs a bath. Adios. |
| Yesterday was a beautiful day, and Bill took a couple fellows flying. Lola and I had a date at the dog park to meet Riley, a West Highland terrier with his own blog, and Sheltie Andy, and their people. It was their first trip there, and they didn't take to it quite like Lola does. Andy is more a people dog and didn't get into much doggie action. Riley ran a bit, farther than he's ever had a chance to before, his owner said, but his little legs tired out long before Lola's. They left after about 45 minutes, and we stayed on for another 45 to let Lola get some running in. Someone showed me how to give her water from a squeeze water bottle, and she loved it. It meant she'd actually come to me occasionally during her play time. I'd tempted her with a couple of treats, without using them as bait to grab her collar and leash her up to get her to leave to come home. But the water was more useful. She can pass up treats easily if she's busy playing, but she loves the water. I bought a Wii Fit on Thursday, and played with it a little. It's pretty fun, in addition to being a good recorder of your time and effort. You have a choice from balance exercises, yoga, strength training, arobics, and something else that I don't remember. Some of the things require you to stand on the little board, and some, like running in place, just require the wrist banded control in your pocket. To give you an example, the first balance exercise I tried showed a picture on the TV screen of a contoured board with a marble size ball on it and a hole in it. You had to move your body to tip the ball into the hole. After that it became more complicated, adding more balls and more intricately shaped boards. Pretty fun. Another of the exercises was hula hoop. The screen shows your "Mii" avatar, and your movements make the hoop move on her. Another was a slalom course on skis, which I sucked at, but not as bad as I sucked at the ski jump. I didn't straighten up fast enough, and my "Mii" ended up in a big snow ball every time. A fun balance exercise was walking a tight rope, and jumping before the chopper coming toward you could get you. I managed to land back on the tight rope and keep going one time. Running in place was, on the TV screen, running behind an avatar down a trail. You have to keep behind her but keep up with her, and dodge other people coming down the path. There are lots and lots of choices, and the Wii gives you balance and skill tips, and it records your progress. Also tells you you've done a good job, sometimes even if you haven't; it's nice that trying counts for something, right? When you |
| I have a friend whose dog Riley has his own blog. Lola thought she'd write to him, and she complained a little bit about always being compared to the previous dog, Seamus, like the unfortunate little sister of a popular big brother. (We didn't tell her he had to be euthanized last summer, just let her think he'd gone off to college or on a fabulous trip around the world.) Thinking about this, and looking through pictures to send Riley, I came across this picture of the wildflowers we planted on Seamus's grave. Since it was already mid July, I didn't know if they'd ever come up in time to bloom. Actually, they are still blooming, even though we've had a freeze. They're protected some by the trees. The other funny thing is, I've never had wild flowers that didn't wilt immediately. I picked these a week ago, and they're still pretty fresh. There's something nice in that, isn't there? Something about new life, and happiness. |
| You would think, wouldn't you, that in my line of work I'd hear a lot of deathbed conversation? Surprisingly, I don't. People are often too ill to talk, or in so much pain that they need a lot of morphine and mostly just sleep. Or they are surrounded by family, have their own pastor, etc. Quite a few are too demented to carry on much of a conversation anyway, or too hard of hearing. Gisela is a lady I've written about before, although I can't remember what I called her that time. Gisela will do. I want a name that will show her German heritage, so that you'll see her as the intelligent, stubbornly independent woman that she is. When I visited her yesterday in the nursing home where she's been living, she was very gurgly and could only manage single words at a time. She said "it "had just come on her (even though she has lung cancer,) and she asked me to pray that she get over it. At the same time, hedging her bets to cover herself, she told staff she hadn't expected to live through the night and was praying to die. I suspect she would rather die than appear to be out of control. I called her hospice nurse, who said they had had a long talk at the beginning of the week. Gisela found it hard to believe she was really dying, finally, and the nurse had laid it out for her. She had also called Gisela's daughter, who lives six hours away. This morning she looked worse, and she asked me, "Am I dying?" I told her yes, maybe not today, but probably not long. Her chin quivered, and she looked like she was crying, but no tears came out. She said she was not afraid. (The nurse had said she was.) I sat with her for over an hour, and each of us spoke occasionally. I told her the things I appreciated about her, things I thought she'd want to hear: her keen mind, her feisty spirit, her sense of justice and fair play, her ability to take things as they come without complaining. I asked her if she was more like her mother or her father. She said she hadn't thought much about that before, but maybe her mother. But her mother had always put God first in her life, and she had not done so. So we talked about what she had put first: her husband, her two children, her students, and whether that was so very different than putting God first. (She didn't mention putting herself first, and neither did I; although when I knew her years ago, when her husband was seriously ill in the hospital, it was always her illnesses I heard about.) We talked about being human, and being forgiven, and our need to forgive others (like her pastor who never came to visit.) (He did finally come today, after much prompting from me and an assurance that she hadn't much time left. Grrrr.) When I went back to see her on my way home, I almost changed my mind and didn't go in. But I'd told her I would, and so I did. She said she had slept all day. She said she could hardly believe this was really happening. I told her my theory, that infinity is difficult to really comprehend, but we think we understand the finiteness of things until it becomes personal. She thought about it and said she thought I was right. Her daughter, if she left this morning when she got the call from the hospice nurse, would have been here by dinner time. Instead, a facility nurse came in at 4 pm to say the daughter would be leaving this afternoon and might not get in until very late if the roads were bad. The hospice nurse told me that the daughter had said, when she heard the news, that her mother had "been dying for years" and was it "real this time?" While that seemed hard, I was not without sympathy, because Gisela told me today she'd been fighting cancer for nine years and had had "twenty-three surgeries." She counted each little skin blemish, basal cell carcinoma, a separate surgery. I told her she'd been very brave, because I couldn't think of any other reason she'd say it that way other than to demonstrate some sort of toughness. I identify with her quite a bit, even though I don't spell out my infirmities to all listeners I hope. I think the place she's coming from is a lonely one, a place of superiority and need for recognition. I wouldn't describe myself that way exactly, but I can't deny it either. Maybe I should have told her how wise she is. That's probably what I would most like to hear. Gisela asked if I thought her pastor and her daughter "know the severity of my illness." I assured her they had been told. Maybe it will come as a surprise to them. Maybe she'll actually pull out of this, but I doubt it. She was worse tonight. What is it that her spirit needs to hear and know to let go in peace? |
| This is the time of year when United Way campaigns are on. In our office, one of the admin staff has always put on a clever little contest to encourage our pledges. This year the first prize was a home made dinner of tamales or chicken enchiladas with rice and beans and Mexican hot chocolate. I won! So, it was a great opportunity to ask company over for dinner, something I ought to do but hardly ever make it happen. The house was clean, and dinner was nearly all prepared. All I needed to do was set the table, make a salad and a dessert. So, it's fall, right? I set the table with yellow and red placemats and napkins and a center piece of mums and the last of the zinnias from my yard. It looked bright and attractive. Now, dessert, well apple pie of course. I mean, I live across the street from an apple orchard where I walk my dog every day; and every day we stuff my pockets full of fallen apples that are whole and unmarked. (We're about to the end of that bounty though.) I haven't been baking for a long time, not since Bill became diabetic. I had put the flour and the Bisquick, etc., away in plastic containers. I had butter in the fridge, and plenty of cinnamon. What else did I need? Well, I needed to remember that I don't really like to make double crust pies, for starters. Even that would have been okay though. I used a Cuisinart pie dough recipe that's fast and easy and makes three crusts. Surely that would give me enough to make a big pie! I divided the dough into three bags to chill, but first I tasted a crumb. Woops! That didn't taste right! Very salty, or at least more salty than it should have been, with an odd, almost cheesy taste. Then I figured it out. I'd used the Bisquick instead of flour. Bisquick is great for a lot of things. (This was probably Krusteez, by the way. It's our local favorite.) It doesn't make good pie dough. Well, I didn't want to start over, so I rolled it out to fit a long Pyrex pan, put the seasoned apples in it, covered them with coarse sugar and a crumb crust and called it a cobbler. Cobblers come in many variations, right? It tasted okay, but I don't think I'll submit the recipe to any contests soon. Sunday, after church, we flew up to Ritzville and met Lenore and her friend Linda for lunch. Sophie was at a sleep over, and Jack was spending "man" time with his dad. Besides, it was Linda's birthday, and Lenore wanted to get out of the house. After lunch she and I sat and talked while Bill took Linda for a quick flight. She loved it. Today Lola went to Penrod's, the local boarding kennel, for a two hour session of "dog park" and a grooming afterwards. She doesn't look like the same dog. She has very fine fur that mats easily, and the groomer cut it pretty short so she wouldn't get so many weeds and things caught in her coat. I don't like the look though. She's nice and soft, but her muzzle looks long and thin, and her head looks very high. The nice fur on her back that looks like a Sheltie is short now too. Her lamb-y legs look okay and will be serviceable, I'm sure. I guess the rest will grow, and also get de-fluffed soon enough. Maybe she'll let me comb her out daily now. I hope so. The groomer said she only had to correct her once, and I can hardly get a brush or comb near her without a game beginning. Sigh. I'll try to get some blog reading done tonight, after some necessary mending, one of my least favorite chores. I'd even rather clean the oven than mend, but hole-i-ness is calling my name. |
| Lola was testing me from the minute I woke up. I thought she would be thoroughly worn out Wednesday from her hour of cavorting at the city's new dog park. She ran with a boxer for all she was worth, racing right past him and letting him retrieve his own frisbees, then sometimes grabbing hold on the return trip to give him a tug or two. She usually picked the biggest dogs, the labs and retrievers and the boxer, to run with. Only once did she evidently feel ganged up on when one kept humping her and several kept up with her too closely. She stopped and turned on them, charging one and then another, and they all mellowed out. For the most part, she looked like the rabbit being chased by greyhounds, craftily evading the pack. She was not completely tired out. She has been at me ever since to go back, like a child nagging at me to go to the park. When I got her in the car, she was instantly on the alert, and could barely contain herself by the time we reached our destination. This time I took a container of water and a pocket full of dog treats, forgot the frisbee, but it probably didn't matter. It was the company she wanted anyway. Two big dogs immediately finished off what water I had with me. Someone else had left a gallon of water, which I refilled my container from, but Lola got very little of it, if any. Another owner brought a large container, the size of a dishpan, and Lola helped herself. She soon had all four feet in it and was paddling! Everyone was laughing, but from then on we kept her feet out of the container. She got very muddy though and went straight to the tub, involuntarily, when we got home. She didn't want to paddle there, just wanted to get out. I wonder why? I went to a new, cheaper place for a haircut today, and I don't think Bill likes it much. It's pretty short for me, but I hated the last cut I got a couple of weeks ago and had hacked at the sides, to its detriment. I haven't looked at it much yet, figuring I'm stuck with it for awhile regardless. Bill made a nice fire tonight. We only had a few batches of trick or treaters, and now we're enjoying it and watching an old movie while throwing Lola's squeaky toy from time to time. She didn't get worn out today either. Hmm. She sure had fun though, and so did I. There were four or five of the same people there that I met Wednesday, and a couple of others I know from the hospital. Old and young people, fit and fat dogs, some social, some who stayed by themselves. If there's a dog park in your area, I recommend it to everyone. |
| Well, my plans have changed already today. Yesterday started off like that too, and it's a little disconcerting. Yesterday I had an appointment for a physical at, I thought, 9:30. No point in going to work for the 9:00 meeting, right? So I arrived at the doctor's office, checked in downstairs so they could review my insurance card, checked in upstairs with the receptionist, and sat down to wait. She knocked on the window and called my name. Seems my appointment was for 9:15 (so why did I even contemplate going to the office meeting for a few minutes?) She insisted that I reschedule and I broke into tears. (You never know when those tears that are attached to other stressers and situations will break out. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.) I left the desk and went back to the seat where I'd put my handbag, got my calendar out and returned. THe receptionist looked a little aghast at my wordless departure, but regained her poise and told me to come back in two weeks at 9:15 next time. It had taken me months to get the appointment, so at least two weeks wasn't bad. Nevertheless, I felt jangled and went home, tried to work on my presentation for last night without much success. (I just typed 'cussess' twice, and I suppose that's indicative of my frame of mind.) Today Lola has been nipping my shoes, wanting me to play or go walk, and I was angry. I tried to catch her to put her in her crate for a time out, but catch-me! became her new game. She speeded around the living room, dining room and kitchen a dozen times. I gave up and went into the bathroom and closed the door. I know that people use crates differently than that, that they're supposed to be a safe place the dog loves to retreat to. That hasn't worked that way for me, but does help her get control of herself when I occasionally put her in there for thirty minutes or so. I hope you dog trainers won't think I'm too horrible. "No bite!" was not working at all. My excuse, I forgot to tell you, for having this time to write is that my cell phone needed charging and the car charger doesn't always work well. This morning I was planning to drive my Northern route to see patients with Arlene, but Bill asked if I wanted to fly to Puyallup with him. That sounded ever so much nicer, so I left a message for Arlene that I'd changed my plans. After changing clothes, into my CAP uniform because another pilot was delivering a Civil Air Patrol plane and we were bringing the other pilot home in ours, Bill announced that the weather had gotten worse there. Instead of the fog burning off, the ceiling was down to zero, and so we couldn't go. So, I'm back in my chaplain clothes (that is, just the regular things I was going to wear today) and heading North. Lola is in the back yard, unwalked and unhappy. The housekeeper will be here hunting for things to hide from us. And we have a vestry meeting at church tonight, which may bring about a discussion of whether or not we have enough income to keep paying for an assistant priest. It's becoming more and more tenuous, but hasn't come to a head yet. Happy fall to you all. I hope I'll get back to writing again soon. I miss it, and i miss all of you. P.S. Did you know that red maple trees turn green in the fall? We have one in front of the house, and this is the first year I've noticed that! |
| I'm not sure why I never have time to blog or even read any more. Part of it, I'm sure, is Lola, who wants me to play all the time. If I'm sitting here with my laptop open, her rubber bone manages to hit some unknown key and change the screen on me. It's hard to maneuver the track pad and type left handed while playing tug with my right as i'm doing now. Anothrt reason is my housekeepr. If I don't keep things picked up and ptu away, I;ll never find them again. She reorganizes things, even furniture! tonight i talked to a group of hospice volunteers aboit spirituality and '"? the stages of gr08u0, unspoken questions ;'/? of the dying. see how much help she is? Lenore has started chemo, a pill form, and is doing well with it. Gotta go. housekeeper comes tomorrow. |
| It's been a varied week. I've been exceedingly tired, but having the twins here yesterday and today has been fun, even though I checked out and went to bed early last night. Tuesday night they all arrived from Spokane late, and they had not yet met Lola, who was delighted-- to put the best slant on it-- to see them. She raced around at top speed greeting everyone and showing off. That would have been okay, but Bill was having a grumpy day and had no patience for Lola even before the kids arrived. So he had a meltdown. He pulled me into the bedroom, closed the door (although he was talking so loud everyone heard anyway) and told me he was going to have a heart attack or a stroke right that very night if I couldn't get things settled down. No, that wasn't quite right. He didn't put any condition on it. He said we got the cat to help him keep his blood pressure down, and now it was so high he was going to...etc. I would have to get rid of the dog. He said he'd have to go to a motel to sleep, so I started to get a bag to help him pack. I wanted him to take care of himself but wasn't going to throw the kids out. My daughter has enough on her mind, and this trip to the specialist in Portland was not going to be easy. Seeing that I was agreeable, I guess, made him change his mind. He undressed and got into bed, and I left him alone. The dog was quiet by then and the kids were in bed. After a while he got up and came out saying he had just needed a time out. We all agreed that we all need one from time to time. My granddaughter asked me the next day if he'd really gone to a motel, because she had heard him yelling before she went to sleep. Sophie, Jack and I took Lola to her first visit to the new dog park. We didn't stay long because almost all the dogs were much bigger, and Sophie got a little scared. One little black chihuahua was ill-tempered, and he was the only one that worried me. He had others stirred up. Lola was oblivious, running and chasing them all happily. We dropped by the library, and Jack, who is not much of a reader, found a book he really liked. We checked it out, and Sophie said her friend has a copy of it and another by the same person. Jack liked it so much they had to take turns reading it, and he was reading while crossing the street to get in the car! After lunch we drove to the bookstore and bought them each one. Jack commented several times that he's never been this much "into" a book before. Fun to see that happen! The specialist was concerned about my daughter's anemia, saying that the chemo she'd be taking would lower her blood count too. She'll have to go to a hematologist first before beginning the chemo, maybe even need a transfusion. The chemo is in pill form, to take for five days and then off for three weeks before starting again. It will make her fatigued and nauseous, he said, and she'll keep taking it until it quits working. A couple of years maybe. Instead of having an oncologist where she lives direct the treatment, as she'd expected, she'll have to make trips back to Portland every three months. That's about a seven hour drive for her. Well, now we know what comes next. |
| My daughter went to the appointment with her neurologist today. He had not been notified that she had a blood clot and was angry. He would have treated it differently. That's disappointing news, one more worry I suppose. The good news is that the tumor is what he expected it would be, and that it is relatively slow growing. He is making an appointment for her with a specialist in Portland who has studied this specific kind of tumor in great detail and will best be able to prescribe treatment for it. So. Is anything different? Not exactly. You just swallow hard and pray harder, put off plans you still can't make with certainty, like when she'll be available for taking a vacation with us. As if any of us can ever plan anything with certainty, but we mostly don't know that. Now we have a clearer feeling for the changes and chances of this life. I suppose I should feel happier, more relieved, but instead it's just more real, although far from really real to me yet. I imagine she feels a little that way too, although it's bound to be a whole lot more real to her. Nothing else to write tonight. I won my game of solitaire. I thought I could if I kept trying. I play Spider. Isn't that thrilling? And Lola was dutifully put in her run today and has again been the better for it this evening. She sure gets her bowl of water full of dirt though. It was mostly mud, no water left, and it was full when I penned her up around noon. She's a tired little doggie tonight. She barked more before I left today than yesterday but was quiet when I came home. Good thing because I was busy talking to my daughter on the phone. We were having ribs tonight on the barbecue but couldn't get it fired up. Just changed tanks too. ?? Not nearly as good cooked in the oven, but oh well. What else can I say? The mint is still green and growing well. How do I get it to root now? |
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