A Christmas message of a sort

This email was sent by a woman I met in Haiti. She is an American nun living in Port au Prince. There is something that really struck me from her message. I thank her for her honesty and bravery in sharing this process and her story. Makes ya think, don't it? Happy merry etc. love peggy

For several months, I had been feeling like I couldn't do this anymore. In fact, just a few weeks ago, I wasn't sure if I'd make it 'til Christmas. My prayer was something like, "God, I want to do Your will but I don't feel like I can. No one listens to me and I don't think it's ever going to get better. I'm tired, lonely, discouraged. Maybe it was not Your will but mine that brought me to Haiti..."

 

At some point between then and now, I realized that living joyfully is a choice that I can make each day and it's all about my attitude, not how others treat me. Haiti hasn't changed much in 200 years so I probably won't see it in my lifetime either, so if I'm going to continue, I must stop trying to fix everything, make people do what is right, straighten out all the problems in the school system, and just do what I can and let the rest go. After all, dealing with challenging people builds character, right? I have had a lot of negative experiences but I don't have to view every day through a dirty windshield (that is, if I had a windshield to get dirty). I decided that this habit of seeing the bad rather than the good has to stop! So I simply resoluted (if that’s a word) that with God's help I was going to stop focusing on the problems and dwelling on how bad everything is. Reliving every harmful and depressing thing that has happened over the past 10 years is only making me miserable; so from that moment on, I lifted my head and started to search for the best in every situation. When I couldn't sleep because it was too hot in my room, I thought about how many people don't even have a bed to sleep in or the privacy of a room to themselves. When I numerated all the things I disliked about my job, I remembered that the majority of people here don't have a job or money to buy food to feed their families. When I looked in the mirror and saw the wrinkles and gray hair, I realize what a blessing it is to be alive and healthy. You know what? Maybe I don't have it so bad! Ninety-five percent of the people here would change places with me in a second. Look at the opportunities I have on a daily basis--a roof over my head, support from friends back home, money to help others get ahead, an education, a job, the freedom to travel outside my country, food to eat every day, the internet in my house, and the list goes on. I knew when I moved here that it wouldn't be easy, so I decided to stop thinking about moving on until God steps in and moves me. 

 

Well, the very next day, I started looking people in the eye when I made my way to school, and started "seeing" the street people rather than just walking by and dropping a small coin in their tin cans. I reached out to the child slaves that attend the school and actually heard their plight. I purchased medicine for the handicapped man who shared how he was unable to have a bowel movement for several days and hadn't a penny to buy food or water, let alone $5 for constipation meds. I gazed at the sad eyes of the mentally ill woman and held her hand as we exchanged the sign of peace. A week later, we started a small jewelry business for the youth so they can have some sort of life, rather than just scraping to get by. I finally get to work on art projects again with a group of enthusiastic young women! And the following day, an elderly man I see every morning on the way home from church stopped me and told me how he hopes I stay in Haiti forever because I am so friendly to everyone. Really, I wanted to look over my shoulder to see who in the world he was talking to! OMG! It was me!

 

So, with a renewed spirit, I trust that the One who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it, and I'm counting on that promise. "O God, thank You for Your grace which is so good that sometimes I struggle to believe it's true.” As this year comes to a close, and I thank God for the courage to continue but even more for rescuing me from myself!

 

And for those who don't want to buy another useless Christmas present for someone who doesn't need anything, there are people on every side of me that won't receive a single gift. They need life's necessities--food, medicine, tuition, and clean water to drink. Cholera abounds in this area. Won't you share a bit of your abundance this CHRISTMAS with someone who literally has nothing?

 

Thank you for your continued support and may all your Christmases be as bright as the star that shone some 2000 years ago and continues to live on in our hearts as we share our light and love with those who are less fortunate.

.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2014!

Nancy

 

Check out: http://tek4kids.org

General donations for Haiti can be sent to:

Nancy Hibbard, N8583 Currie Rd, Portage WI 53901

Tax-deductible donations can be sent to:

St. Mary's Church, 309 W. Cook St., Portage, WI 53901

Please note clearly that the donation is for Haiti.

PNewL PNewS 21.3: The Holiday Edition

 

PNewL PNewS

Volume 21 No. 3                                   “All the pnews that phits.”                                 November 2013

School days…but different

     I never liked school and in grades 7-12, I felt that the school never liked me much. (I made a bunch of life long friends, but it was not a good fit. My father once said it was one of his regrets in life that he was part of me and that school, something that still amazes me.) So it is ironic that I have probably taken more classes since leaving school than the average bear. This fall is that on steroids.

     It was a bunch of coincidences that led me to be over scheduled class-wise this fall—that and my issue with not being able to say no. (I just looked back at my New Year’s Resolutions for 2013—just say no is one of them. Why am I surprised?) As I was walking the dogs this morning (Muddy shivering in the wet grass, wanting to sit in the sun, while Roger prefers the shade, being black and all), it occurred to me that each class is so very different—not only in subject matter but in format.

     Three or so years ago, Pam Brewer said she wanted to teach a Mosaic class in Asheville. I said sign me up. Pam is one of those artist types who can do anything. Well. Really well. And it turns out, she is a patient generous gentle funny teacher too. But I had to wait years to find that out and I had those years to collect bits of stuff to turn into mosaic. 

     When the schedule finally worked out and I could take her class, it turned out it was at Wildacres Retreat Center, off the Blue Ridge Parkway near Little Switzerland. Is this sounding too perfect or what? Well, it was pretty darned close. The retreat center was gorgeous and quiet, served edible food and had comfortable quarters. The class was populated with an eclectic group of women coming at it from varied angles. Several were potters who had pieces of their work to work with, others had experience but in other stuff. We got along well. And I came home with a bird bath which I have wanted for years and a new top to a hideously ugly old plant stand. Knock a couple more things off the list and a good time was had by all. 

     The big class of the fall is Welding, another class that has been on my list for a while and I almost missed it—it was the last class in the “Con Ed” booklet. I couldn’t miss it though—I have to add this to my repertoire. It is Monday and Tuesday evenings from 5:30-9:30, for something like 10 weeks. Oh my! Once I get there, it is fine. In advance, I have dreaded it every week: it’s long and intimidating.

     A class list showing our birthdays was sent around on Day 1. All but one of my fellow students was born since I graduated from college. Sigh. So much for finding appropriate single men there! The one person older than me has a long braid, tattoos in abundance, earrings, and is in serious need of dental work. Yes, I am judgmental. My mother taught me that. It also turns out he is a very kind and patient person (as is the teacher, thankfully). While partnered with this gentleman, he insisted I continue to lay down beads until I felt really comfortable. And he was very supportive in his critique of my wiggly wormy attempts.

     Meanwhile, amongst the majority of the class I list as “cowboys,” who have none of the fear I have and who probably would benefit from a slight dose, there are also some folks who surprise me in their compassion for the older woman who seems a bit freaked out by all this explosive stuff. One cute young buck came over to me a couple weeks back and suggested that we know what we need to know to do what we want to do—that we will never be pipe fitters and will never have to lay down a bead that is perfect. He’s right, and I’m right too—in believing that learning to do it right and to appreciate the dangers involved are good things.

     At the front of the line of these good people, there is my teacher who has been willing to put up with my “special needs,” repeating things, and actually holding my hand as I get more confident. (I did get partnered with a young fellow who didn’t seem very happy to have me on board, or was horribly shy. When the teacher asked me where he had gone I had to say I didn’t know—“He doesn’t speak.”)

     Next, there was 90 minutes on making Sauerkraut. The teacher is someone I know through my work at the Weaverville Library. She lives around the corner from me, on a mountainside with an absolutely gorgeous home. She is a devotee of healthy eating as is her husband who was, for this class, the sous chef. It was very informative and yummy. My first batch isn’t bad.

     A couple weeks back, I drove down to Molly and David’s house where I took part in Beginning Jewelry Fabrication. It was so fun—and productive. They live in kind of a …oh I don’t know—could it be a holler? Or a cove? Anyway, it’s a private clearing with outbuildings that are now studios and a cozy home and a friendly dog and it’s a sweet spot. David is a potter and was firing a boatload of pots which includes pizza night as he has a pizza oven that takes advantage of the heat of the kiln. His own design I believe. One of these days I am going to find me a man like that.

     Back in the studio, we sawed and sanded and soldered and played with rocks. It was soooo satisfying. This was a class of three (I found out about it from Jan who was in my Jewelry forging class last spring—great referral.) In the end, I wound up with a ring and two pendants I am quite proud of. Yay!

     The last class is an online photography class. It has been a little hard to keep up with while all the rest goes on in the real world, not cyberspace. I am about to do some intensive computer time with it. I took a class with ed2go in Florida—editing—which I loved so I am fairly confident from what I have seen so far, there is stuff to learn here. It’s just the tangible world that calls to me, the beautiful sunny days, the happy dogs, places to go, people to see, classes with start and stop times.

     I am so grateful to these talented teachers for letting me into their lives –yeah, I know I pay for the classes but it’s not like that. Each and every one of the teachers I had this fall (well, the jury’s out on the online teacher…) gave of themselves in a generous and kind way. It is a very warm and fuzzy thing.

PS: I must confess one thing. Last week I dropped out of Welding. It was a very hard decision and came at an odd point: we had done all the hard stuff and really all we had in front of us was practicing on something we were making to take home. After all those hours of laying down beads, we were going to play—actually make something. Sigh. I am a little disappointed in myself but I am also so happy to have the time back. It was a jigsaw puzzle to coordinate each class in my day and if I just popped that piece out of my schedule, everything else felt really good. It was the grown up thing to do, and being a grown up sometimes…sucks.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I have learned a lot about choosing an email address having worked on a database of names and addresses for the past two years. Tread cautiously. Avoid cap O vs letter 0, number 1 vs lower case l. There are many others.

• While pursuing a blackhead with a magnifying mirror, I was distracted by the skin on my neck. Blessedly, it is often in shadow but wow! When did that happen?

• Perhaps I have said this before but it has come up so many times recently, I feel I need to say it out loud. If I can’t figure out what it is, I probably don’t need it. Most recently I came to this conclusion at the Fiber Fair and then while looking at the Northern Tool ad.
• From Karen re my concern about not being able to say no, she wrote about a friend of hers who kept a list of excuses next to her phone. “As a mother of school aged kids, her favorite was ‘I'm sorry, I don't have an oven.’”
• Edie is retiring. She has been polling friends who have taken this step ahead of her, getting advice from friends. One is to embrace napping. I second that.

• With this recent addition of tabs in gmail so that “Primary” “Social” and “Promotions” are separated, I have put all the retail emails into the promotions tab and I find as I go through I am so sickened by the amount of sale sale buy buy buy that I just delete it all. My new money saving strategy. ‘Course late at night when I feel sorry for myself, I know where to go…

• Muddy the mini-monster-Maltese presents an interesting view point of the world that is foreign to me in so many ways. For instance, he often finds himself in a place he knows I can get him out of, and so he will just stand there and wait. I have not had that option in a long time, if ever.

• As a Peggy, I was often called Piggy as a child and that kinda morphed into collecting pig paraphernalia. (I probably have enough in case you suddenly had a great idea of something to send.) This year, a neighbor has started raising pigs. It has been fun watching them grow into quite large healthy looking pigs that don’t look much different from the pigs Katy Persky and I drew in elementary school.

• With Autumn in high gear, dead foliage is exposing the garbage thrown out of cars on the road home. It makes me a little nuts. I almost pulled over on the way to the library this morning. I just want to understand who and why. There’s a Bojangles box smashed into our dirt road. Doesn’t it bother anyone else? I think I’ll go get it now…

• I got my 2014 calendar at this alternative bookshop where the guy who sold it to me thanked me for coming in and supporting their work. It makes me want to go back, so kind and human. Having the calendar (which is hand drawn and perhaps Xeroxed with all sorts of lefty dates in it), makes the dates I get to put in it real. I am going to South Africa in February!!!

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Tis the season

I have been feeling…well, I thought it was wistful but when I looked that up, that’s not it. Nostalgic? Aging? With a bit of wist thrown in (the dictionary says there is no “wist…but how can I be ful of it then???). Maybe it’s the time of year—looking at the Things I am Thankful For list, celebrating the 6^th anniversary of buying a home in Western North Carolina, Gini’s season of loss, our collective loss of light/shorter days. It’s not sad, necessarily, perhaps more reflective than usual.

Things I am thankful for…

• Anne Lamott audio books (heck, all audio books)

• Seeing the world through the eyes of my dogs

• Aforementioned dogs and the friends we are becoming

• Being a part of different groups of people who are doing good work…at the library, at Habitat, at Women for Women.

• All the teachers in my life

• kale

The hall of famers that are repeat every year but don’t get stale:

* Friends

* Family (some of them)

* Knowing so many who do such amazingly good work

* Knowing so many who are so generous with money, time, talents

* Opportunity (still and again)

* The circumstances I was born into

* My Mayberry life

------

I’m lazily duplicating last year’s list. I may have time to work on it more in the coming weeks. Meanwhile, I am printing it out and putting it on the fridge. I need more frequent reminders…

New Year's Resolutions

* Hang out in coffee shops

* Dance more

* Laugh more

* Close them doors and let the windows open

(Repeats from last year)

* Learn to say no....diplomatically

* Quilt more—craft more

* Have more fun

* More adventures

* Read NY Times Magazines in the year in which they were published

 ------------

“This family business can be so stressful—difficult, damaged people showing up to spend time with other difficult damaged people, time that might be better used elsewhere—yet out of that, some accidental closeness, laughter, some pieced-together joy.” Anne Lamott, Some Assembly Required

PNewL PNewS Vol 21 Issue 2

 

PNewL PNewS

Volume 21 No. 2                  “All the pnews that phits.”                  September 2013

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

•  Tomorrow, I am taking the afternoon to have a good talking with myself…about what I want to do with the next bit of time, how I want to spend it, what my priorities are, what makes me happy, why I get myself into the overcommitedness that makes me physically and mentally uncomfortable. I have been doing some thinking to get prepared for this. Allison says I must like the craziness and I know that isn’t true. I am uncomfortable saying no, especially to people, organizations and stuff that I like. It occurred to me while walking the dogs this morning that people organizations and stuff that I like that ask for my time, get it. The PNewS and my quilt room never ask and so get lost in the bustle. That doesn’t work for me any more. I may have tackled part of tomorrow’s conversation already, the question is how to put it into play. Suggestions welcome though omit “shoulds,” please.

• From the Pointe Au Baril Islanders Assn. eblast: “Bears have a VERY keen sense of smell from as far as 5-7 miles away and when hungry, will travel great distances to get [food]. Did you know that one bird feeder full of bird seed is 30,000 calories for the bear? Black bears use different sounds to express a wide variety of emotions. For example, when they are relaxed they combine a lot of grunting sounds and when they are scared, they make a loud blowing noise. A black bear that is standing on its hind legs is not necessarily about to charge. Sometimes he is attempting to smell and see whatever caught his attention.”  

     I copied this information in because I found it interesting, then I discovered two cubs playing in my backyard. The leftovers from my feeder apparently attracted them. I could hear them breathing. Roger was a wreck. The next night, Roger started barking around 11:30pm. I turned on the outside light and it sounded and looked like the family was on their way home after an evening of foraging with the aforementioned combination of grunting sounds. I’m happy they are happy, I just wish they weren’t quite so close.

     On a related topic, I was in the yard the other day and looked at the fence and thought…something’s different about the fence…it’s been fixed! While I was out of town and Jeff and Susan were keeping an eye on things, Jeff fixed the bear-broken split rail. What a guy. I’m a lucky one to have the neighbors I have!

• I have become an avid knitter. Recently, I "unknit" the sweater I started. I started to fear I didn't have enough yarn. It was a remarkable relief. Funny how little things like that can make things feel easier... one less thing to worry about.

• When I was out in San Francisco, I had to rent a car. I found myself driving in the City on automatic pilot. I was not totally confident about where I was going. I knew where to turn but not necessarily what was going to be there when I got there, and yet, I knew that I would get there. It was a combination of familiar and a foggy memory, and a very odd sensation.

• The spiders seemed to be on steroids this summer. When I went down to the water up in Canada, two of the spiders whose webs I disturbed going down the stairs were rebuilding by the time I walked back up. While I was writing this (warm rocks, soft breeze, blue sky and sun), another was starting one using me as an anchor point.

• Belonging: Even after five years of living in Western North Carolina, I find myself wondering What am I doing here? When I was at Martha’s place at the Lake, I was impressed and a bit envious by how many people felt they belonged there.

• Cousin Alice suggested I take a look at the writings of EB White for adults. I requested the collections my library owned. Who knew? It was an interesting assortment of essays and letters and short bits from the New Yorker. I noticed the indexing of one of his collections. It gave me an idea. I also requested the book on tape (yes, tape) of The Trumpet of the Swan. Absolutely charming (and White reads it!)—I’m getting Stuart Little next.

• I stood on the dock pondering my morning dip for at least ten but not more than 20 minutes one morning in Canada. It was after breakfast, which is not the tradition but is an option when “camp” is lightly occupied. And it is still morning but is it still a dip? The tradition of morning dips, bathing at dawn in the brisk waters of Georgian Bay, is an old one. Around the island, there are variations on this theme, but I think our camp (at least some of us) is the last to cling to the tradition or the guilt of the tradition of this early morning practice. As a younger member of generation 4, I missed out on some of the guilt, but it is certainly part of my history there. This summer, one of extreme relaxation with little routine, dips sometimes came after breakfast, when the sun had hit the dock, and skipped altogether when the air temperature was below 55 (the water temp was reported to be in the 60s somewhere in Georgian Bay but I don’t believe it).

     So I stood on the dock jumping, stretching, hopping on to the floating raft, making it sink, surfing it into the dock, tricking it into letting me land before it sank, only to bob up again when freed of my considerable weight. This is not my grandmother’s morning dip. I have been thinking a lot about belonging and connection and this experience filled with so much history and memories—mornings when storms were approaching and I stood on the rocks shivering, the transition from have-to to want-to, the old scratchy terry cloth robes with a plastic soap box in the pocket, seeing my mother and other female relatives naked (oh my!), slipping in to the water off rocks and clambering up the slippery underwater rocks, finding handholds and footholds. It’s pretty rich that funny little tradition.

     I did manage to get in the water that morning. And as long as I can get in and out of the water and no doctor says the cold water might be hard on some organ or other, I figure I will continue to bath in the lake in the morning. Tradition, belonging, connection all seem kinda…connected.

• I happened upon two articles that were related in two different publications. One from the NY Times Magazine and one from National Science in the Public Interest’s Nutrition Action. I gather what’s growing in our gut is a popular topic these days. The statistics fascinate me:

From Nutrition Action: Average human has 3-4 pounds of microbes in the gut. 80-90% are different kinds (not a lot of repeat). 4,000 different strains found in the belly buttons of 200 people.

From Michael Pollan’s article in the NY Times: “For every human cell that is intrinsic to our body, there are about 10 resident microbes.” (They include “freeloaders,” “favor traders,” and only a tiny number of pathogens.) Microbiologist Justin Sonnenburg: the human body is an “elaborate vessel optimized for the growth and spread of our microbial inhabitants.” (OK, that last wasn’t statistical but great quote, eh?)

• What I Did This Summer

It was a full summer, full of activity, work, travel, change. This is a good thing as it was an odd one, weather-wise. July went down in the record books as the second rainiest month in recorded history in WNC—it was less than an inch shy of #1. I turned my AC on against the heat a few times in May and then against the damp in July and August.

     In the second half of June, I headed to California for the 32^nd Annual Angel Island Picnic. Another successful event though we once again lost out on our preferred campsites. Turns out some ravers have taken over the island for the weekend and we think they have some sort of computer program that gobbles up campsites. Not fair. We have the Angel Island Annual Picnic IT department working on it.

     From the City by the Bay to the City of Roses where I got to watch brother Peter play soccer in a championship game (and ate some fab Ethiopian food) and then on to a cabin by the lake in Montana where we had four out of five siblings reunited. We were joined by a flock of Martha’s friends for the July 4^th holiday celebration.

     Home for work on the Quilt Show publicity and other projects. Tickets for “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” (we all complained our cheeks hurt from smiling too much) and a visit to Jonesborough TN, the storytelling capital knocked two things off my bucket list. Then Evie and I headed up to Osawa for a visit with a few cousins and a lot of time reading, kayaking and generally relaxing. Nice.

     But most importantly, the summer brought Roger (age 4, mixed breed—kind of looks like a gigantic [he’s a little overweight] dachshund) and Muddy (12 ½ yr old Maltese with LOTS of issues) into my life. I have written a bit about them in an earlier post online which you are welcome to read. They are a joy—they make me laugh. (Muddy is sitting in my lap as I write this licking the keyboard.) People say I am a saint because I adopted an obese dog (who is down 10 or 11 pounds now but hardly at his optimal weight yet) and an addled aged ailing but cheerful as hell Maltese, but I say I’m the lucky one…Well, I say it often but not all the time—I’ve never done this much laundry in my life. And there are a lot of days when I am just plum wore out: Muddy can’t get through the night without a pee break or two. We have diapers but that’s not perfect. But it’s mostly good.

     Leslie said something I remember as “I’m a better person with a dog,” and I think that’s true. I get out more, I get more exercise, I laugh more, and I feel comforted and comfort more. I don’t like the double fee at the dog boarding place or the guilt that they are sitting at home tapping their toes, wondering when I come back or the way Roger sticks his nose between the door and jam to prevent me from leaving or the mess…but seriously, weigh all this and see which side wins.

“Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.” — Marcus Aurelius (I think I got this off Facebook so who knows if this is correctly attributed but I like it anyway.)

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Welcome to the Muddy and Roger Show!

Last week I wandered into Brother Wolf Animal Shelter to pet the puppies. It's what I do when I am in that neighborhood. It was mobbed. I swear, every child in Buncombe Co was getting an animal. One I kinda liked was gone by my second round. There was wild activity.

As I watched all these kids, I thought, kids need puppies. I need a dog. I came upon a pen with a fluffy little guy and what turned out to be, when he finally lumbered over, an extremely overweight short black and brown guy, and was drawn to them, or rather their story and their relationship. Their owner died recently and the owner's brother works in China so he had to surrender them. One is a 12 yr old Maltese, Muddy, with some health issues and the other is an obese "Lab mix," Roger. "Lab mix" is a common description at shelters, but I haven't found anything about Roger that is Lab--hey maybe they mean they mixed a bunch of stuff in a LAB! That's it!

Anyway, they are an odd couple, not really my type, and do I need two dogs? It also occurred to me--who else is going to keep these guys together? Guess that would be me. So how crazy am I? We shall see.

It took a couple days for me to get them. The Shelter folks are very concerned about Muddy--he has a hernia that can be corrected with surgery that is dangerous and icky and expensive. Muddy is adorable and spunky and feisty and TWELVE + years old. Turns out he's also pretty deaf...oh, and is missing a lot of teeth. And is not quite clear on the indoor outdoor where one goes to the bathroom concept. Roger is becoming increasingly less mellow--in a good way. He loves to walk which should help with the poundage--he can even hop around when excited and he runs like a crazy dude in the wet grass, of which there is a lot in rainy western North Carolina. Otherwise, he's pretty happy to do whatever we're doing.

Because of Muddy's possible future under the knife, I have the dogs as a foster owner. Tomorrow, we are supposed to decide what happens next. I think they are doing it this way because that way the operation would be their problem, financially. Frankly, the scene at the front desk of the shelter was so frantic, I didn't ask a lot of questions. I so admire the work they do and so couldn't do it myself.

Meanwhile, I am calling this the Land of Misfits as we get to know each other. It is nice to have the company. It is a bit of a challenge not to step on Muddy--he's often under foot and doesn't seem to show up on my radar all the time! No damage so far.

Oh and funny story. Loveeta got a new old dog about the same time Roger and Muddy showed up. So now in the neighborhood, we have Sam Frank and Roger. I told the vet tech that they other day and she said "I see a poker game in the future...they're gonna start getting together...cigars could be involved." I liked that. I took the hounds to the vet to weigh Roger. His paperwork says he weighs 25 lbs. Turns out it's more like 65. After reading the scale, the same woman said, "I can't wait to see what you do with him..." meaning getting the weight off.

And so the story begins. You will undoubtedly get future chapters in coming editions.

PS. Something is weird with this website so that I can't seem to save pictures of them to it. I have put some on Facebook...https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10200864809797275&set=pb.1075330452.-2207520000.1375374880.&type=3&theater

PNewL PNewS 21.1

PNewL PNewS

Volume 21 No. 1                  “All the pnews that phits.”                  June 2013

The Reluctant Gardener Returns

     It is that time of year—the bulbs have mostly come and gone, and they were particularly lovely this year. I swear the azalea blooms were twice as big as normal. There are more shades of green out there than I can find on a paint chart. And with all the bleeping rain this spring (something like 16 inches more than normal), things are growing happily. Meanwhile, I grouse about. Sometimes, I wonder what I was thinking. There is a lot of work to be done around ye olde hacienda and knowing me, it ain’t gonna happen—thus the grousing. I putter around over here and then there and the adult onset ADD kicks in and everything is half-done at best. Like right now, I could be outside (which I was just moments ago when I was inspired to come write about it but I really need to take a shower and go to Knitting) but I’m not.

     I do get a few things checked off the list. I have a wonderful weed whacker. It’s battery powered so when the battery dies—just about the time my attention is wandering, I have to stop and recharge it. I had some trouble with it tangling but I did some deep breathing and googling and learned how to rewind the line and also learned that it didn’t like the last line I bought but really likes the new line. And I try not to attack the bottoms of high weeds, working top down, slowly, mindfully. Very…Zen? And then the !(*#&!&$*^$ just stopped working. The troubleshooting guide says things like “If it’s dirty, clean it.” “If there is stuff wound around the pole, unwind it.” DUH. SO I had a good chat with it. I said, look, I really need you to work—there is no way to FIX you, so please? And then I smashed it into the ground and bingo! It works! For now.

     I bought half a whiskey barrel at Tractor Supply. In California, they are wine barrels, in North Carolina, whiskey. They burn out the inside so there was a lot of ash and charcoal inside which I didn’t think much about as I wedged it into the backseat of the car. I thought a lot about it as I looked at my pants and then the backseat. Oops. Then I got it home, filled the bottom with foam peanuts topped with a lot of soil. And then it started rain. Man, that thing is water tight. I guess when I got the one in California, someone had drilled holes in it. Oops #2. The foam rose to the  top and was floating in amongst the soil. What a mess. So I got the drill out and put holes as close to the bottom as I could—it’s too heavy to lift—and watched the murky water drain. Now I have a mess, but it is a relatively dry mess. I better get the herbs planted before something else happens.

     You might be thinking, she doesn’t come to this living in the country, enjoying all of Mother Nature’s offerings (along with those from the hardware store) naturally. Egggggzactly. Thus, the “what was I thinking?” comment and this column too.

     Meanwhile, I have been wondering when it would be time to stop feeding the birds…when the bears would be out looking for big juicy bird feeders. Well, I found out. About a month ago, I looked out and the big hefty feeder was gone. We walked the property, peered into the woods. Nada. It’s gone. A couple mornings later, I was brushing my teeth and noticed that there was something wrong with the split rail fence below. The top rail….was broken in half. And beyond that, the forsythia bush looked like a small vehicle had driven through it. Seems the bear came back looking for another snack. Fortunately I had brought the other feeder in. Nature’s busy here in the mountains!

     As the time passes and I still haven’t finished this, things are constantly changing. Today I went out to have a look at the blueberry bushes and looky there: BLUE berries. Big fat juicy. Yum. Now if it would just stop raining I could go back out there with my bucket…Enjoy the bounty that is summer, y’all!

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I made a quick trip to Sanibel for visits with friends and family and with some stops on the way home with other friends. It was a good trip, though the weather was such that I didn’t get to the beach and the traffic such that I didn’t get to my favorite restaurant. It did make me think a lot about the different choices we make—lifestyles, locations, projects--particularly as we get older and the choices are more precious.

• I take a lot of classes—mostly craft-related. I am starting to learn on youtube but I like going to classes. What I don’t like is outdated supply lists. Craft teachers, in my experience, are notorious for asking students to bring a lot of crap that never gets used. The number of teachers who say things like, Oh is that on the supply list? I thought I took that off, is remarkable…and annoying.

• While watching the movie “Lincoln” at home, I started checking birthdates—they rarely pair actors appropriately age-wise. Sally Field is 11 years older than Daniel Day Lewis while Lincoln was nine years older than Mary. I also learned Daniel Day Lewis is one day older than me.
• I had my favorite chaise (which Gini got for me at a garage sale for $25) reupholstered. After months of looking at new ones, none of which was exactly what I wanted and feeling odd about sending a perfectly good piece of furniture that I love away. I paid more than some new ones cost to bring it back to life. When I dropped it off with the fabric, Ronnie the upholsterer started laughing at the fabric. I said what's so funny...and he said STRIPES. It didn't read stripey to me. When I picked it up, I laughed—he asked what and I said, I didn’t notice how golden the fabric is. Alas, it is home and inside (thanks to Jeff and Susan), and I am happy.

• I tweaked my back looking at pans on the bottom shelf. I was leaning in and picking up heavy stuff in the back of the cabinet and thought, I bet there's going to be a time when doing this is really stupid and stood up and realized, this is the time! I now have an itty bitty understanding of back pain. Ouch. My sympathies.

•  Listening to The Splendid Table recently, I was intrigued by talk about chick pea flour. I thought—that is a win-win: flour made of BEANS. Practically a health food! I could buy chick pea flour, but why not just grind up my own? I can tell you one reason: it’s really LOUD. Fortunately, I had just come from a pseudo black-smithing class, so I knew where my ear plugs were. The result—tortillitas by Mark Bittman (Google him)—was very nice.

• Andrew and Kendall got married in the Washington DC area recently. It was one of those happy coincidences: I was planning to go to a conference of do-gooders in Washington DC the week before the wedding and Andrew was getting married (which was not only a happy coincidence but a happy event). A two-fer! How often does that happen? Both events (and a few bonus visits with friends) exceeded expectations. The tears shed at the wedding were all for my pal of 35+ years Stephanie watching her baby boy. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

• Why do I always feel like I am leaving the house, even for just a few hours, with luggage? I can’t even go to the store without a load of stuff. I haven’t counted my canvas bags but they seem to reproduce when I am not there. And they are often loaded with all sorts of stuff I just might need. What if I get stuck somewhere and need something to read? What if the car breaks down and I need a sweater? Might be able to squeeze in a stop at the gym. Always travel with a snack…and paper and pens, and things that need to be fixed or returned or dropped off. You never know. That “be prepared” scouting stuff can be all consuming. Now that I think of it, maybe it was from the days of Let’s Make a Deal when Monty Hall gave money to people who had hard boiled eggs in their pockets.

• I have one of those grown up tasks facing me. It involves money and authority figures and decisions and trust and responsibility. These are not at the top of my list of skills and/or favorite things. As I read through documents, I get kind of interested and then – bing, oh look I got an email. Back to it and bing, I wonder if I need to put toilet paper on the list. I’ll just go look and see. Then, grinding on along, I read someone’s analysis of the issue and become engrossed by their ability to use language in a way that is so foreign to me and it makes me feel sad that I can’t do that and that all of this stuff is so pathetically hard for me and then I wonder if I have any skills and why I haven’t done something more important and serious and grown-up with my life and BING…it’s just a bleeping hurdle, get on with it and bing…don’t I deserve and need a soothing game of Solitaire right about now? As mom always said, This too shall pass. This passing does not appear to be going smoothly, however.

• I am heading out of town soon (usually) and so have been doing some serious paper shuffling. I came across one of those articles I can’t seem to find a place for but I can’t throw away. It is about the joy…and the importance…of solo travel. If you are so inclined I recommend it highly. It is one of those articles I would kill to have written (ok, maybe not kill, but he says what I want to say so much better and so I am envious…plus in googling his name I find he has a remarkable career). There are so many quotable quotes, I can’t pick em out…so just read it. http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/05/09/yes-please-party-of-one/

'I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.' Thomas Edison

32^nd Annual Angel Island Picnic

Saturday June 22. Perles Beach

Come on down.

PNewL PNewS 20.5

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PNewL PNewS

Volume 20 No. 5                  “All the pnews that phits.”                  March 2013

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A Brief Visit to Cuba

     This fall, I looked online for trips to Cuba. While I have found myself on interesting trips learning cool stuff, I have been aware of my Bucket List looming. It was time to address it and Cuba was on top. Then, Chris mentioned she was going to Cuba. “Can I go?” my usual response to anyone’s travel plans—and she said yes. Yay.

     It was a quick trip--a few hours short of a full week, what with a delayed flight. Cuba doesn’t seem to care about flight schedules. When we took off from Miami, the pilot said something like Cuba is running a bit behind today. We flew over on Sky King. How cool is that?

     What we saw of Cuba was lovely. It’s the Caribbean! We stayed in some of the nicest accommodations I have stayed in. An all-inclusive, just flash your bracelet for a drink place at the beach. A sophisticated urban place in Havana. But it was confusing and…that’s kinda how it continued. The sights were lovely, the food was delicious, the music was ever-present. Buildings are crumbling, folks on the beach come up rubbing their arms like they are washing—they want soap…or anything spare you might have. (When the Soviet Union pulled out, one day there were stores full of essentials—the next day, none. Rubbing their arms represents their lack of…whatever you might have). Confusing.

     To go to Cuba legally, one has to go with an organization that has a license. Suffice it to say, we had a license. Our group was mostly artists as there was time to paint. Never having hung out with painters, it was educational. We had a very friendly knowledgeable and chatty guide (he actually managed to talk the entire bus ride from one coast to the other—a total of five+ hours), who had lived through much of what he talked about.

     Highlights: A walk to a waterfall which fell into a large pool that was the perfect temperature for swimming. In Havana, we spent a morning with Mario who is an architect/public artist and has been very well connected throughout the revolution and for generations before. He had a wonderful sense of humor and didn’t mince words—my kinda guy. He talked a lot about the city’s architecture and took us through the Colon cemetery—it’s like a city of mausoleums. And of course, the time we had to just wander the streets of La Habana Vieja was fab. Oh, and the food in the paladars (restaurants popping up all over the city as entrepreneurship is being encouraged) was creative and delicious. One was in a crumbling building (see the movie Strawberry & Chocolate. It was in the building one of the main characters lived in), one was in an upstairs apartment that had expanded out onto the roof and into other nooks and crannies, and the last, in the home of the restaurateur’s grandfather. We even ate off his plates. Oh, and Hemingway’s house: lovely—highly livable sans the animal heads. Our last night in Havana, we drove around in 1950-something convertibles which was very fun and funny. All good.

     And then there’s the confusing part. Part of the charm of Cuba is that it’s falling apart, that they are doing such a remarkable job of keeping the pre-Revolution cars on the road to drive tourists around. It’s that tourism-in-an-impoverished-country conundrum. Mario commented about how the buildings in the old town of Havana are being repaired (slowly) but the parts outside of the tourist sections are where people live…and they are falling down too, with no tourist money to fix them.

     It has taken me a while to write this as I was confused about what to say. I loved being there and can’t wait to go back. On the other hand, the part we played in how it got to its current state—the part we might play in its future… Not just “we” Americans but “we” tourists. Looking at photos and re-reading my journal, my memories are cheerier—I have to cut myself some slack. Bear died mere days before I left. It was not the best timing and so things are a bit tainted in retrospect. In the end, I agree with a fellow traveler: if you get a chance, go!

PS I watched the US Weather Channel while I was in Cuba. I watched a serious ice storm aim right at the end of my trip: between Charlotte and Asheville. What timing! When I got to Charlotte, it was an ice rink. The man driving the shuttle said, pshaw—no problem. He dropped me in the satellite lot for overflow which was no longer overfilled. I talked to Evie until my car could defrost the ice that encased it. I decided to see if I could somehow slip on home between the storm (no pun intended). Even the highways were icy. What was I thinking? I have very limited driving experience in bad snow and ice. I spent most of my adult life away from it. I do have confidence in my driving…but that’s different. I got into an icy track on 321 and tested my brakes about every 15 feet. The tension in my body was sparking. This was nuts. As I came into Lincolnton, even semis were going under 25mph.

     The next morning, I went to “breakfast” waiting for the temperature to get above freezing. I shared a table with a woman (from Asheville who had rented a car hoping they could drive home since planes weren’t flying) whose best friend from college was Cuban. The friend’s family came over at the start of the Revolution, thinking they were only leaving for a little while, wound up never going back. Her father finally landed a position as a professor in a small town in South Carolina. Her mother never learned English—never got over leaving her home after 50+ years. That story has haunted me—funny how a chance encounter can provide such insight.

The Extremely Large Hound: The final story

As many of you know, Bear left the planet on January 15^th. It was not a joyous peaceful experience—he fought it the whole way, leaving unpleasant memories--and yet I still feel like we did the right thing. It has been surreal since he left. I anticipate his nose at the door when I come home, I still look at my watch to make sure I haven’t been gone too long, I notice things missing on my list of things to do and the grocery list. And then there’s the part where I am sewing more than I have in years, I can go from one thing to the next without pausing at home for a visit with the big guy. I am planning lots of away time before I ponder another dog. I have finally walked the hill and the road without him—neither was easy or comfortable. I am going through the process.

     Before he died, we talked to another pet communicator. She was great. She said he wants to come back to me…in a smaller package—he told her he was too big for me to pick up and he really thinks I need a dog I can pick up. I am comforted by the idea of him coming back.

     Losing Bear has been almost as hard as losing my parents—and in some ways, harder. I can pretend my parents are on a reallllllllly long trip because they don’t live in my house. Bear was very much in residence. In each situation, I have felt like this couldn’t happen to other people in this way because we can’t all be walking around with this pain. But guess what? It does and we are. I guess it’s what we do with ourselves going forward in honor of those we have lost. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Onward and upward…soon.

     I want to thank you for your kind thoughts and msgs, cards and yes, even donations made in his memory. I was truly touched (the ironic mailings from funeral parlors asking if I’d made my plans which arrived in the midst were…ironic, and not appreciated as much). Thanks.

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Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I think photos of food can be very iffy. When I get offers for coupons at local restaurants, I am often repulsed by the photos even when I know the food is good.

• I was cleaning up my paperwork to get ready for taxes—actually making sure all of Quicken was categorized correctly and I felt pretty good about things…until August. August, I didn’t bother to write who I paid what. Amounts were there but no names, no categories. What the heck happened in August???

• One last Bear story—well, it’s more about me (isn’t this all?). When we walked, I found myself humming a lot and sometimes singing aloud. I had a Oh my Darling Clementine version (“Big white horses Big white horses big white horses in the field, they are right there where you left them, big white horses in the field.” [The horses are not there any more.]). When Bear got sick, a couple new ones came to mind: REM’s song (with a twist on the lyrics) “It’s the end of the world as I know it and I’ll be fine” and then when everyone said I would know when it was The Time for Bear to Go: Benton Wood (?)’s “Gimme some kinda sign Bear.” Ok, that’s probably enough.

• I went to the movies the other day unexpectedly. I suddenly had a free chunk of time and there was a theatre down the street. Yay. But I was really hungry, and if I stopped for food I’d be late. I opted for popcorn lunch. I do not buy movie popcorn because I worked in a movie theatre and I know better. I did it anyway, for $5.75, fer crissakes. It was unbelievably mediocre. I could only eat half of it which was probably a good thing. I brought it home thinking I would snack on it later. Movie theatre popcorn (or I should say THIS movie theatre popcorn) was bad enough in the theatre…it was really bad at home.

• Last Saturday was one of those days. I have been in a bit of a funk, and I think I might be coming out of it. The upswing may have started Saturday. I was in my 9am Core Conditioning class. I like it because it is over early in the day and it is EXACTLY the same every week. He even says the same words, which I like early on a Saturday morning. This week he said one different thing that has stuck. It was—as we were doing my least favorite exercises—Be thankful for your two legs and two arms, that you have them and you are able to move them this way. It really struck me. Things we take for granted. Then I was with a new friend who told her story of coming to grips with some sight loss. The doctor told her there was nothing else he could do. I was wowed by the grace with which she seemed to be accepting it. She described how she sees things--that she can only see through the lower half of her eye. So I walked around with hands over my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like. She said she was grateful it was the lower half so she could read comfortably and do things with her hands. I tried to imagine being grateful in that way. She is a role model.

• After receiving an inordinate number of credit card applications this past month, I finally looked at one—there is a PRESCREEN & OPT OUT NOTICE! Apparently I missed this option which someone says became available several years ago. It applies to insurance policies as well. May cut down on the junk mail. Call 1-888-567-8688 or write to any of the reporting agencies. After spending a silly amount of time shredding applications, it’s worth a try.

• I believe I recycled a whole stack of undone crossword puzzles, beautiful postcards I bought in Cuba, a sympathy letter to Richard, and am wondering what else. This goes into the category: Sometimes I don’t like being Me. (Note; Crossword puzzles are gone but I found the postcards—in the box of tax paperwork! Yay)

• Bear hated taking pills. I mean hated. I sometimes think he spit out more than I got down him. I tried everything. One vet tech recommended cat food which worked like a charm until he started biting all the fur off his butt due to allergies. Cream cheese worked very well for a while. Finally, I realized, I had to shuffle the options so he never knew which treat was going to contain the dreaded pill—and it worked. FYI.

• My new friend Sarah, a retired librarian and avid knitter, recommended Cynthia Rylant’s Dog Heaven. If you lose a dog or know someone who has, get it. It’s sweet.

• When I have a bad cold, good tissue makes all the difference.

• Save the date: Angel Island #32. June 22. Perles Beach. Be there or be square.

"As long as the world is turning and spinning, we’re gonna be dizzy and we’re gonna make mistakes.” Mel Brooks