PNewL PNewS
Volume 22 No. 1 “All
the pnews that phits.” April 2014
Instead
I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell
you about my recent trip to Southern Africa. It was big and multi-faceted.
Legendary anti-apartheid leaders! Folks doing amazing work! Animals! Birds in
beautiful colors with bizarre bone structure! And good people, fun times and
excellent food in humongous quantities. But it’s been a struggle to nail a
story that will illustrate the total package. So I’m not going to here and now,
but maybe later. One day soon, I will post pictures—they tell many stories. For
now, I’m going to tell you my latest aha story, which is probably a repeat of
an earlier aha story but I suppose I needed to hear it again.
I love it when seemingly unrelated things
happen that add up to something I need to be reminded of (sorry about that
preposition and all sentences that end in prepositions). Maybe in the news, or
a line in a book or something someone I know and love or only kinda like says
or writes, and I get to hear it again—practically see it in neon with bells
ringing—and hope that this time it will stick.
Laurey Masterton was a local hero in
Asheville. She has had such an impact on so many people in town that the most
popular bumper sticker is now “Don’t Postpone Joy,” her (among others’) motto.
I am always in awe of and inspired by people who have that effect on folks.
While the whole joy thing is a bit foreign to me, I totally get not postponing
things. I hear too many people waiting for stuff or putting things off. It
scares me. Time has a way of taking control. I may not be a joy-filled person
but I am really working on prioritizing better. You come too. By the way, Ms.
Masterton died after a long battle with a bunch of cancers. She didn’t postpone
much based on what I have heard about her. So that was Part I: Don’t Postpone
(and work on the joy part.)
Then I got an email from my really smart
friend Becky. What she said specifically isn’t important but the gist of it has
set me free. It’s kinda like my friend Gini, another really smart friend, who
always says—“I want to be the kind of person who wants to live in a foreign
country [or whatever it is], but I’m not” and Becky goes on to say she supports
folks who are doing those things that she doesn’t really want to do but knows
are important and then we can in a way feel like we are part of it but we don’t
have to do it. Part II: Allay the pressure to do good work that really isn’t my
kinda work: Provide back-up (support, cash, goods, moral support) to folks who
are good at it and are moved to do it.
And then I was cleaning out my email inbox
and finally deleted a stack of emails from Billy, yet another really smart
person, who really wants me to be involved with some political work in North
Carolina, and I so want to be that person for Billy but really, I’m not. I will
support him and his gang, knowing he will do it well and get on the ground help
from others, and I will try to remember to do the things that get me closer to Joy. A bit of a
circuitous route, but I hope you followed along.
Things I am Learning
& Miscellaneous Observations
• What I said to Mary as she is planning her African
Adventure: Enjoy the planning part. I find on these trips where others are in
charge of the logistics, I lose some of the connection and I miss that part.
• The open house party at the double-wide—to celebrate Ray
and to get some help in figuring out what to do with it—was fun. The water was off which wound up being fine—no one stayed long enough to need to use the
potty. Jeff who loves to tease me, suggested I turn it into a brothel, meth
lab, gambling den, or sports bar. Patsy and Ernie said they watched enough
“Breaking Bad” episodes they think they could help with the meth lab
suggestion. Other ideas were short term or long term rentals, or as an artist
in residence residence, a space for workshops and yoga classes. And the last
idea was a neighborhood clubhouse with overflow housing... We shall see!
• Sculley fixed the frozen plumbing at the double-wide and
the pressure tank blew...a bit of deferred maintenance, I fear! I think I will
run into a fair amount of that.
• Based on the experience, I really think I deserve more
than 11,000 miles for flying to and from South Africa. It’s a heckuva long
trip.
• An ad above my emails (gmail)
when I was looking at a close up picture of a lot of wrinkles on my face was
for a skin tightener. This is scary.
• I have been trying to get the PNewS done and got lost in the TRAVEL folder on my
computer. Surprise, surprise!
This Mowing Life
My career as a Rider of Mower
has begun. Jeff, who is getting a lot of press in this issue, gave me a lesson
despite never having done it himself. Wish my brain worked that way. This has
been a huge but fascinating learning curve. It is not terribly intuitive, in my
humble opinion, but I am beginning to panic less frequently and I haven’t run
over Roger the extremely black dog who can get lost in shadows.
I think Jeff wasn’t totally convinced I
would actually finish mowing the double yards (mine and the doublewide) before
it was time to start all over. He and Susan had to help me get off a stump I
had impaled the mower on early on Day 1. But I did finish, and right before it
started raining! Yippee!
Despite the tremendous noise (I am wearing
lightweight ear protection and will be getting heavier duty in the near
future), I find it satisfyingly meditative. And I am learning so much,
like…there was a reason Ray cut down all the cute little flowers in the
grass—going around them is absurd…being a novice mower means my weed-whacking
time is going to increase, and in case you were wondering, I don’t find that
satisfyingly meditative… I can see that this is something I will get better at,
and while the grass looks like it had a pretty mediocre haircut, it’s not that
bad…for the first time in a long time, I am doing something that I think might
be even better while stoned, but since I don’t do that any more, I am looking
for volunteers to test my theory—every two weeks til early October…
Another
Goodbye
Muddy the 13+ year old mini Maltese monster left us last
week. While he was only with me for eight months, I really loved the little
devil. He was SO much work. Nothing in him worked, and I had to help and clean
up and coddle him and put up with the snarling and biting and dementia and I
loved him all the same. He had gobs of personality, and, heck, he loved me
back. I am so grateful for our time together. Bon voyage Mudster!
On the upside, Roger and I are reveling in the simplicity of life
without the monster. Roger has become this amazing affectionate, energetic,
devoted dog (and did I mention he has lost 25 lbs. since I got him?).
Yesterday, he went wacko in the creek—scampering over rocks and going boldly
into the water. He’s a new guy. Thank heavens he is only four years old.
There is one unfortunate side of him: he is a hunter, both inside and
out. Outside, well, you know. Inside, it’s for anything edible. So far, he has
dumped the garbage (multiple times), gotten on the dining room table (only once
that I know of), and has pulled anything he can off the kitchen counter
(regularly). The last incident was chewing the lining of my winter jacket
pocket out to get at biscuits contained therein. The dog whisperer said this
isn’t going to change. I’m hoping she’s wrong.
“Even if we’re not always
so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway. Wade straight
through it—right through the cesspool while keeping eyes and hearts open.”
Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch
