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.)