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 32nd 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 4th 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.)
