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

PNewL PNewS 20.4

PNewL PNewS

Volume 20 No. 4                                              “All the pnews that phits.”                  December 2012

The Latest Story of the Extremely Large Hound

      I heard someone on the radio say something like “It seems we can have several different emotions or feelings or reactions all at one moment.” Ain’t that the truth. The extremely large hound and I are out on a walk and it’s cold and quiet and beautiful and I am worried and scared and happy and sad and thoughtful. And this is all before breakfast!

        Let me start at the beginning. A couple months ago, Bear gave me his paw, like he always does when there is a thorn in it. There was no thorn in it though. I wasn’t sure what it was but I convinced him he was going to be fine. Later, I noticed he was limping slightly and his “wrist” joint looked swollen. I took him to the vet, a new vet whose office might be slightly less stressful than the big bright busy place of long frantic waits we have gone to up until now. She said it might be a strain and to try aspirin. This was encouraging—the other place charged for fancy drugs. Three weeks later, it seemed time to go back. No change. She said they would need to take an x-ray. 

      It’s osteosarcoma—bone cancer—a painful aggressive sort that occurs in large dogs, especially rottweilers, which Bear’s mother was reported to be, especially in dogs that were neutered early, which we did because he was a total pain in the neck. (His were the cutest little macadamia nuts they removed that day according to the vet.) I noted that when we contacted specialists at the vet school in Raleigh, they didn’t bother to respond. He’s a textbook case. As Chris said, there’s not a lot in the Western medicine toolbox for this.

      After I got the diagnosis, I left Bear there for an ultrasound and chest x-ray. I called Gini from a parking lot en route home. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think. I shouldn’t drive. I know he is “just a dog” and people go through this all the time, but this is Sir Baru Bear the extremely large hound, my best friend, the light of my life. I know there are horrific things happening to humans who are important to people I care about. I knew he was going to live a short life but this is about 2 years short of a short life and that’s not fair. I know life is not fair but this is Sir Baru…oh wait, I already said that. On the one hand, I know it all; on the other, I can still write this with tears in my eyes and a heavy weight in my heart. I so want different outcomes.

      Tests were inconclusive as to whether the cancer had spread but I was touched that the x-rays brought tears to the eyes of all those at one vet office and several at others, including my neighbor vet who’s a big seemingly tough guy. Treatments include chemo and/or radiation and/or amputation. I confirmed with others who know much more than I that Bear is not a great candidate for amputation. Apparently if you get bone cancer it’s better to get it in your back leg, and maybe not carry most of the 125 lbs in your chest. Make a note.

     Things have calmed and we are in a pattern: Bear gets everything he wants and I am his slave. If I want to pretend I have my own life, I have to leave the house, which serves two purposes: I get to act normal and he gets much needed rest.

      I took him to the…pet communicator (I call her a dog whisperer but the previous term is what she calls herself). It was remarkably comforting. When she saw the x-rays she just looked at me and said, I am so sorry. Yeah me too. When she started talking to Bear, he stopped pacing and lay down. When I started asking end of life questions, he came over to me and lay down with his head on my foot. I believe this stuff.

       She was impressed at how in sync we are with our thoughts about treatment and the future. Bear has had a happy life he feels is complete. He is, of course, more worried about me (though has interesting ways of showing it). He also added that he would like more meat. So it’s pain management, keep the dog calm, and meat. The calm part is impossible. He has bizarre bursts of energy that would challenge any human to stop. One of the vets said, “You have to do what’s right for your situation—amputation, chemo, radiation or palliative care, keeping the dog calm…or some people even let them just run.” We are opting for the last plus the drugs. If it’s only a little while, let him do it as he likes.

      I could go on about this but this is probably more than enough. Meanwhile, hug your furry (or feathered?) friends for me. And if you don’t have one of those, well, I spose you could hug a human. Hohoho.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I recently listened to two Rick Bragg books on tape: Prince of Frog Town and All over but the Shoutin’ both of which are about his rough and tumble childhood and growing up in extreme poverty, part of that time under the thumb of an abusive alcoholic father (and a daring and doting mother). They were entertaining and heartbreaking all at once (highly recommend). At the same time, I was reading letters of intent as a grants committee member. The services these organizations want to offer to counties in Western North Carolina were inspiring and eye-opening, the need so great. I find myself being incredibly grateful for where I landed in the universe. What great good luck!

• The other morning, the birds emptied the small feeder in under an hour and the larger feeder in under three hours. I was impressed. The bummer is that filling the feeders gets Bear so riled up I am afraid he might hurt himself so I can’t do it as often as these busy birds need me to. Alas.

• Sounds of the wild and not so wild. This morning I heard what I think must be coyotes… An owl or is it two? And then…a donkey? I am such a suburbanite…

• I am working on a theory that some of us are more affected by gravity than others. This would excuse my miserable and brief attempt at tap dancing. The research started a while back when I was skipping. Skipping is harder than it used to be. Seems I leave the earth and immediately return. There used to be more time airborne.

• Whilst picking up garbage along my road, I have been introduced to a new category in the grocery store— flavored malt liquor/beverage. One can contained “Twisted Tea”—half tea, half malt beverage. I brought the other one inside because I can’t seem to remember the words on the label—Fruit Punch Four Loko Malt Beverage with Artificial Flavors, 12% alcohol. Yum. I know I have seen similar things in the Liquor Store (we have ABC stores here in North Carolina)—bubble gum flavored vodka, for instance. It’s a concept.

• Speaking of things I find along the road. There is a guy (I assume) who drinks a beer on his way home from work (I assume) and he pops the cap back on the bottle and threw it on the hillside. Up until recently, it was a tall good brew—like Fat Tire, Anchor Steam or Sierra Nevada. I applauded his taste, while snarling at the litter. Recently, this has changed (the economy?) and for a while I found tall cans of Bud Lite Platinum (seriously?) but since there was no cap, I couldn’t be sure it was the same guy. This morning: a tall bright blue bottle of the aforementioned Bud product…with the cap firmly reattached.

• My neighbor the falconer got his bird! Her name is Rocket Girl (they will all be named for beers) and she is a GORGEOUS juvenile red-tailed hawk. She will live in the mews til spring when she will return to the wild and the whole process will repeat next fall. Meanwhile, she is practicing hunting though as of this writing has not been successful (bunnies are fast!), but she returns when Jeff whistles. I know this is too much information but it is so foreign and fascinating, I had to share.

• There is a group in San Francisco, of course, that is throwing Device Free Drinks parties. (NY Times 12/16, Style section) After partiers detached from their WMDs (wireless mobile devices), they were encouraged to have conversations—there were conversation icebreakers available—or play games or draw or type on a typewriter.. I approve. This is a trend that needs to spread.

Things I am Thankful For

* I survived the Asheville Quilt Show (and signed up to do some of it again—see resolution about learning to say no below)

* Weather--I understand people liking the change of seasons. A whole new set of clothes I forgot about.

* Blacksmithing!!

* The extremely large hound

* My Mayberry life

* Not just the library but the service it provides. The kids who come in for Story Time are so happy to be there. It’s inspiring, uplifting.

* I’m going to Cuba in January!!

In a local paper, there is a Best of Asheville competition each year and after something has won its category for so many years running, they are automatically in the Hall of Fame. These are my HOF thankfuls.

* 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

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

* Have more fun

* More adventures

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

"Boundaries; you always have boundaries. Let someone else choose them and they're restrictions. Choose them yourself and they're principles."  Unknown

May your holidays be merry and bright and 

here's hoping 2013 brings a saner more content world.

Here's to y'all!

PNewL PNewS 20.3

PNewL PNewS

Volume 20 No.3                  “All the pnews that phits.”                  October already? 2012

                                                             My Mayberry Moments
     I went into Weaverville this past Friday to meet Millie, my new friend who I met in California, for breakfast. She sat across from me at breakfast one morning at a conference (www.edgefunders.org/) in Berkeley and she thought maybe my coffee cup was hers—it was from a company in Asheville. It was one of those, what-is-that- doing-here moments. I hadn’t seen anyone from Asheville on the list of attendees but she works for an org out of NYC—so there’s the confusion. Anyway, we hit it off and have met up a couple times and this was for me to meet her friend—we’ll call her Cathy, because that’s her name—who is a quilter.
     As I got out of my car in the “downtown lot,” I saw my neighbor Jeff sweeping the stoop of his store and putting out his signs. It was a gorgeous crystal clear fall morning and the scene was a precursor of things to come—it was sweet. I went into the store to hassle Jeff a bit because it’s so much fun. He’s such a nice guy, I enjoy harassing him. He has just become a licensed falconer and hopes in the next week to adopt his first bird. I am sure that is not the term—he’s looking for a bird in the wild that will live next door for a season and then will be released. He’s built a handsome mews which will house the bird (cuter than my shed which makes me feel just a little bad). It occurred to me...is there a gift situation approaching? A bird shower?
      Breakfast was very pleasant. I have become quite fond of hanging out in coffee shops and this was a good time. Millie and Cathy were good company and provided an opportunity to vent about the upcoming election, quilting and schedules. Another moment of sweet.
     Off to the library—my home away from home—where I needed to offload some books that I wish I wanted to read but never will. It is time to clear the decks—well, one of them at least. I walked in and it was kind of like a scene from Cheers—instead of Norm! I was greeted with Peggy! It’s friendly. A brief chat and then on back down almost the full length of Main Street.
     The woman pruning the bushes out front of the little antique store said, Hay! How ya doin? (I won a gift certificate at her store in a raffle. Buy raffle tickets in Weaverville—you are bound to win!) I pop in there on occasion, and walk by and wave often. Next was Rodney’s Auto Repair or something like that. I buy a soda from his machine when I volunteer at the library. He usually says “Hi” and often says, “Best deal in town” (the soda) and I have to agree. This morning, a hearty hello. Continued on down past the folks hanging out at the election tent—offering sample ballots and plenty of advice. John was there with his handsome dogs. Luckily, I had a biscuit in my pocket. Next stop was the early voting booths and that took longer and struck me as pretty serious after all this sweetness and light, but glad to be there and get it done. Now let’s see if the robocalls stop.
     On the way back, I stopped in at Maggie B’s to talk about the possibility of highlighting Habitat’s Women Build at one of her Friday night wine tastings. She said she’d look at her calendar and let me know. Bought a couple bottles of wine—she’s a nice young entrepreneur and we have to support the local economy, dontcha know. Dropped in to pick up a prescription at Weaverville Pharmacy and was out the door in under 3 minutes—can’t do that at CVS. (When they asked me why I wanted to get my prescriptions there—there was an application!—I wrote, I hate waiting in line at CVS.)
     Did I mention it was a beautiful day, smack dab in the middle of leaf season? You couldn’t have wiped the goofy smile off my face. It was one of those days when everything seems just so darned perfect it makes me giddy. I’m going to remember this one.

                                                            Things I am Learning
                                                    & Miscellaneous Observations
• I have a small tray ($1 at the ReStore) that I load up with breakfast things, vitamins, water, coffee, blender drink, lip-stuff, pen, Kleenex. I carry all those things to wherever breakfast will be happening—lately on the front porch since I got this cool wrought iron/glass table 1/2 price at Care Partners. Bear likes it because he can keep an eye on things from there. In the winter, I use a tray that Ed and Millie gave me from their travels, and we only go as far as the dining table. It makes a little ritual of breakfast, which makes for a good start to the day. And I like my trays... they make me happy.
• Every time I settle into a coffee shop...reading writing drinking eating...I think, I should do this more often. (Note to self: Just do it.)
• It’s been a long time since I last wrote the PNewS. I have been thinking of all that has happened—the Gini/Bear/Peggy Annual Retreat at Holden Beach, a reunion of Raymond family in a funky house on the Russian River, a reunion with Lisa in Berea Kentucky which is a charming artsy town just over yonder (and Lisa is pretty charming herself), and the successful completion of duties as Publicity chair of the Asheville Quilt Show. That deserves its own bullet point—well they all do, but there isn’t room. The Quilt Show gig was a bit of a slog, much of which I have to admit I enjoyed. I think the downside was the intensity that I was supposed to maintain for eight months was more than makes me comfortable. I must like being a chair though—I picture the little maple chairs my parents had—as I am now one in a different location.
• I have two small action hero types (one from Star Wars that I found in the Bed Bath and Beyond parking lot, and the other found at Folly Beach one Thanksgiving a couple years ago) that are sentries for my back gate (I stapled their feet to the posts). They are beginning to show their wear. S’pose they are not warranteed for two or three years outside 24/7? The brightly colored one from the beach has to lie down now as the elastic in his knees has worn out—know the feeling?
• Bear thinks the only reason I should have my hand in my pocket is to retrieve biscuits. He is wrong, of course, especially now when it’s getting cold.
• I threw a CAbi party this week. So unlike me. CAbi is where Chico’s clothes and Tupperware meet. Personal shopping in my home. I worried this one to death. I painted the kitchen, shampooed the rugs, boxed up reams of papers and months of NY Times, shoveled Bear’s toys to make room for this event. Rebecca, my CAbi representative, arrived at 3 for the 5pm party. We hauled in hundreds of pounds of clothes and racks and lamps and mirrors. Set up was painless, wine and cheese were set out, and folks arrived. Rebecca did her spiel and the moment she stopped speaking, women were throwing their clothes off and trying things on. There was a spot for the shy among us to change but she wasn’t there apparently. Soon, folks were placing orders and Allison and I were putting things back on the racks and then they were gone. It was the most frantic less than an houre I can remember. Rebecca is still tallying but says it was a success.
• It’s hard to remember life before iTunes. This morning on our walk, I was humming and singing a John Prine tune which it suddenly occurred to me I didn’t own. That made me wonder how I could know so many of the words (phrases of three or four in a sea of ones I couldn’t remember) of a song I didn’t own. Well, I might have owned it on a tape or album…Anyway, I got home and dialed up iTunes, typed in “Come on baby, spend the night with me” and there it was…actually called “Six O’clock News”…and 99 cents (plus tax) later, it was mine. The joy of technology (and John Prine songs) and credit cards.
• As most of you should know by now, I am bonkers about Habitat’s Women Build program. I am the head groupie for the Asheville affiliate. I have investigated getting my own hard hat, perhaps in pink. Anyway, I am on the leadership team which is now focusing on advocacy rather than fundraising (phew)—though I still encourage you to donate (go to http://www.ashevillehabitat.org, hit donate, donate-online, and at the drop-down menu Area to Support, highlight Women Build). Betsy noticed, in her infinite wisdom, that Women Build Leadership Advocacy Team could be shortened to WomBAT, and so that’s who we are. My reaction was to google wombat to find a good image to put on our agenda and oh the things you can learn on the internet. How much do you know about wombats? How much would you like to know? Here’s the best factoid – one you can share at parties when things get a little dry. I am hoping this won’t offend…From Wiki.answers.com: “Wombats produce cube shaped ‘scats’ …(they) leave scats to mark their territory atop rocks and logs, and cube shaped scats are less likely to roll away from the wombat's territory.” They also are rumored to have eyesight issues and they can mark their way home (like Hansel and Gretel) with the aforementioned scat and know that it won’t be rolling away. Fun facts to know and tell.
• A late addition to this year’s New Year’s resolutions: I am going to work on being a normal person during the holidays and not the depressed Scrooge I was last year. No comments please, I am trying.
• I take a while to get to parts of the Sunday NY Times and then I save bits of it to share so it’s old news, but I think it’s worth sharing—and it will get it off my desk…July 8th Sunday Business, the article is called “Has ‘organic’ been oversized?” It’s really interesting. Matter o’ fact I may not be able to throw it away as there are some statistics and company names I want to remember. First, Eden foods is one of the few organic product companies that have remained independent. Kellogg, Pepsico, Coca-Cola, Cargill, ConAgra General Mills Kraft and M&M Mars own many of the so-called organics these days. The most concerning takeaway for me: The National Organic Standards Board, which is peopled by folks from the aforementioned mega businesses, has increased the number of approved “nonorganic materials” allowed in “organic” foods from 77 to over 250. Huh? You say. Me too. You can read the whole depressing business at http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/08/business/organic-food-purists-worry-about-big-companies-influence.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0
• I am reading a book called “Where did I Leave My Glasses?” (Martha Weinman Lear). It’s really comforting. A lot of talk about normal memory loss. Confirmation that our ability to multi-task decreases as time marches on—everything apparently decreases which may be why time seems to move faster. Time is not moving faster, we are just slower. One of my favorite subjects is the “Worried Well.” If you can relate to wondering if you have a disease after hearing the symptoms of a disease on a commercial or from a friend, then you are a Worried Well. I guess something is going to get us, so we are trying on the possibilities. Onward.


I do so many things well, I can afford to fail at something. Gini’s friend Mike