PNewL PNewS 23.3 -- August 2015

PNewL PNewS 

Volume 23 No. 3                       “All the pnews that phits.”                                        August 2015  

I am a Foster Mom

     For dogs, that is. And okay, so I have only done it twice. And one of those times pushed me to the limits. But I love it. I love having the new personality in the house, a different energy even when it is too much. I like seeing how Roger takes them under his wing and bounces off of them, literally and figuratively. And I like that they go away.

     I signed up for the fostering emails in the early spring and was amazed by the numbers of animals either living here or coming through who need a temporary place to land. Turns out a lot of unwanted animals come through this area from the Deep South to New England where there are fewer strays, as they are better about “fixing” their animals.

      After I watched the emails for a while, I noticed that there were short term fosters—two weeks generally —so an animal has time to get its shots up to date or to get fixed before it is released into the shelter population or is readied for “transport” north. This was how Roger and I would participate, perfect for us short attention span folks.

   The first character we hosted was Bam-Bam, a self-confident adult Chihuahua. He was hilarious. He and Roger got along famously. Bam-Bam could rough house and run with the big dogs. He was very smart and very fast. One day, Chris and I were talking as she was preparing to go out. She locked up the house and drove off and I went looking for Bam-Bam. Nowhere to be found. In the two hours I spent looking for him, I had a string of disaster scenarios going through my mind. I had signed a piece of paper that said I would always have him on a leash. Oops. The E.D. of the Shelter chose Bam-Bam personally for her uncle. This was bad. I live in the woods, which are filled with critters that just might find a little dog to be a nice snack. I was shaken and kicking myself and…then the phone rang. Sculley, Chris’s husband, asked if Bam-Bam was supposed to be in their house. Amazingly, he scooted in as Chris was locking up and neither of us saw him do it.

     I feel heartless sometimes when I tell people I do this and so far have not wished the pup would stay. I know I don’t want a permanent second dog—to board, and keep healthy and feed—but I do kinda want one and for two weeks, it’s perfect. When I took Bam-Bam back to the shelter for his ride north, I told him what was going to happen and that at the end of the ride, he would have his new “forever” home. When I handed him to the shelter person, he looked at me as if to say, “But I thought this was my forever home.” Unexpectedly, I started to cry. It was brief. He’d be fine.

     Foster #2 was a terror. I called him Mikey because I have Roger and a Michael/Mikey made a movie called Roger & Me. It fit. And I think he even looked like a Mikey. He was a three-month-old boy they said was a border collie mix. He had more energy than anyone like me should ever have to deal with. We now have a very strong NO PUPPY policy. I knew I shouldn’t do it when I got him – and really I wasn’t supposed to get a puppy but they were placing a lot of dogs that day and the poor woman needed someone to take this puppy. Two weeks can’t be that bad, right? Yeah, it can. When I finally realized I would be more comfortable if I always had a chew toy of some sort on hand, I solved part of the problem but it seemed no matter how many things I was shoving in his mouth, flesh was really his preference. He also has a bit of a food aggression problem. He sounds like something out of The Exorcist if you get near his food dish. Hard to believe something that small and sweet looking could sound that evil. And he harassed Roger constantly and Roger didn’t like it…and he likes almost all dogs. But Mikey was also cute and funny and he is super smart so my feeling is he will be a great dog soon.

     Dropping him off at the end of two weeks was not as hard but I still had tears well up. He was so little and so forlorn, but I heard the next day he had been adopted by a couple who had seen him online and fallen in love. I wish them all the best.

     I have learned something with each experience and I look forward to the next one. Just no puppies!

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• Sometimes the light bulb takes a while to come on. It just occurred to me that I can buy yarn faster than I can knit it. For that matter, that applies to most of my hobbies. Buying yarn, fabric, books etc. takes a fraction of the time it takes them to be used up.

• Sara and I were on Perles Beach on Angel Island after the all day picnic. It was no longer hot. Clouds, wind (not to mention sand and very cold salt water). Two friends had just gotten in the water and were enticing two others, who followed them and then they suggested Sara and I join them. We looked at each other. Uh-uh. Somehow that morphed into how much someone would have to pay us to get in the water at 5pm with another night of camping ahead and no shower on the island. As the number got higher and higher, I think it was Sara said she might consider it if someone would take a few things off her to do list, like figuring out which car she should buy. Yep. If someone would get the doublewide ready for tenants, I would jump in that water so fast. Alas, no one volunteered to do either and we stayed dry and warm and salt-free.

• Oh no: it’s back to school sales time and notebooks are SO cheap. Keep me away.

• My house has finally reached the age (11) when things are starting to break or just plain wear out. Let’s pretend this is the fun part.

• I have been stung by a bee, cleaned up puppy pee while the puppy chewed on my feet with needle teeth, had my teeth attacked by three sadists (two dental assistants and a dentist) and it’s only 10:22. Not the world’s perfect Monday.

• I just unsubscribed from an online list I didn’t subscribe to. An email confirmation says it will take 30 days for removal. What’s the computer doing for all that time?

• Does anyone have a dog who does not think that when you go into the kitchen it is for their enjoyment and fulfillment? I don’t and never have. When I break my hip, I believe it will be stumbling over a dog who thinks it is suppertime, no matter what time it is.

• Playing with mosaics means every broken dish has the potential to inspire a project. But wait, universe! Stop breaking my stuff! Today, Roger knocked his bowl onto a heavier-dutier bowl and it broke. Then I poured coffee into a brand new mug (purchased at a local craft fair) and the bottom fell out (thankfully into the sink). This was all before breakfast was over.

• Today I was whizzing the BBQ sauce when the whizzer, a Braun…I think they call them immersible blenders…that I bought at the Goodwill in San Anselmo with Karen 15+ years ago started making the oddest noise. One might assume that at this gadget’s age, it didn’t owe me anything but I am sad. This is a very handy tool in my kitchen. It reminds me that the bowl of the Cuisinart my mother gave me shortly after I graduated from college is cracked and a few steps away from crumbling. I actually wondered if perhaps it is too late in life to buy a new food processor. Loveeta says I should just buy it and if I die soon, it will make someone really happy at a great garage sale. I still wonder. (Later: I told Sydney this story and she nodded through it—she had the same experience and just bought a new one. Guess it’s my turn.)

• People often marvel at the, from their perspective, tedious crafts I take part in. Quilting…knitting…it’s so much work. I always say it’s cheaper than therapy…and I like it. Then I went to the nursery in Swannanoa and bought some plants from the nice man. He said if I deadheaded the flowers I would have a robust plant that will flower all summer. Deadhead? Now there’s tedium for you. I have tried to get a little zen doing it but I do find if anything looks just a wee bit wilty, off with your head! I am not going to be out here everyday plucking these suckers apart. It takes me long enough to find the clippers…

• I live in the land of unreturned phone calls and emails. I diligently email organizations, businesses, individuals, and eagerly await responses. Nada! Of course, as I am writing this, I am reminded that I have a bad track record for returning phone calls. I will change my evil ways, or I will try, as it is annoying. Sorry.

• I want a new car. I am very attached to my current car as it belonged to my dad and he bought it kinda in honor of my mother (one of his friends called it the Frannie-mobile), but it’s getting to that age when I am afraid it will start letting me down. And it recently occurred to me that I have had four cars in my life and I still own two of them. It just might be time.

• I read an interesting article about aging and baby boomers in the local paper. One statistic knocked my socks off: In 1900, approx. 100,000 Americans lived to be 85. 2010? Approx. 5.5 million, and by 2050: they’re projecting 19 million. (“they” being the US Administration for Community Living, part of  the Dept of Health and Human Services.) The article is about a guy who is helping caregivers and everyone else look at the realities of aging and what we want that to look like should we need care outside the home—he wants to change the culture of nursing homes. (In the one where he was meeting a group of residents, the staff didn’t tell residents when someone died…they only knew about it because beds were being moved around. Wow.) When most people are asked if they think they will ever wind up in a nursing home or using a wheelchair or having dementia, they say no. Something to think about.

• When last I wrote this pnewsletter, I was leaving for my 40^th high school reunion. It seems like so long ago now. It was one of those events that was long in coming and went by in a heartbeat. Great to see everybody and wonderful to see how we are aging so gracefully. I just want y’all to notice: I mentioned the reunion okay? Just because I didn’t cover previous mini-reunions in Maine…with Laurie and Ann and MB and…oh shoot…am I missing someone??? Don’t wanna forget anyone or anything! It is always a wonderful time when hanging out with people we have known for so long.

• On the way home from the library, I stopped in at the vet to pick up something and at the corner market for a salty snack. When I left the latter (cartons of cigarettes are now $59.26? Remarkable.), I realized I had had two very friendly small talk kind of conversations that I don’t usually have and say I am unable to have. I was kind of proud of myself. Then I drove 35 miles an hour behind someone who was apparently very afraid of our roads as the speed limit is between 45 and 55. Suddenly I did not feel so friendly.

“For some reason, I never found my way to the path called normal.” Michael Moore

PNewL PNewS Volume 23 Issue 2

PNewL PNewS 

Volume 23 No. 2                “All the pnews that phits.”                    May 2015 

My Month in Motion

     While Roger has spent a lot of time at Puppy Camp, I have been on the road. Here and there with brief stops at home. Opportunities lined up this past month and I just couldn’t say no. So I didn’t and it turned out great and Roger still seems to like me. As Gini likes to point out, dogs have neither watches nor calendars.

     We started at the beach—Edisto, to be specific—and it was cool and windy and rainy. One day, Sarah threatened not to get dressed. It was that kind of vacation. It was a gathering of the itty-bitty book club, and we were there ostensibly to read and discuss a book I think only I liked. (Edisto by Padgett Powell. I just looked on GoodReads and it either gets 4-5 stars or 0-1. Kinda like beets—you either really like em or you really hate em.)

     It was a perfect situation and a very compatible group to accomplish whatever each of us wanted. The only imperfection in the weekend was out of our control. When we arrived, we found that the house we rented was having a new roof installed. There were tools left on the roof, which fell onto the deck below. Extension ladders were left in place—and the other side of this duplex was rented by a family with small children so the ladders seemed a wee bit dangerous. Meanwhile, inspectors and people from the rental agency and workers seemed to flow in and around us for part of Friday and Saturday. I recall counting approximately 12 who showed up. A couple even let themselves in to take pictures of the damage from the leaks that occurred when they took the old roof off. Turns out it rained really hard at that point. That was unfortunate because it was obvious everything was freshly painted. And somehow, all of this became our problem.

     The funny part is that when I think about our beach time, I mostly remember having an unexpectedly fun time getting to know some good people in a beautiful place. I jut happened to write a note to myself that it was  weird to move into a construction site while on vacation.

     Next up: Yogaville! Well, actually, next up was a visit to Charlottesville and Lynne, a high school vintage buddy, and Amy, a college vintage buddy and to introduce them to each other. It was great to be with old friends with whom there is gobs of history. Love it, love them. THEN to Yogaville.

     Sometimes I do things expecting a specific result and it winds up being totally different. Not bad, just different. Such was the case at Yogaville. This could also fall into the category of “I do things so you don’t have to.” I got a coupon to this place and it was so reasonable I figured it would be okay if I didn’t like it. Two nights, 48 hours, 6 meals. I thought I was going there to take lots of yoga classes. Au contraire! It was all about the yoga lifestyle. Silly me.

     At the first meal, I met a really interesting woman who was a professor in the African Diaspora from Washington DC. She had been everywhere and had traveled with ambassadors and spoken to large groups of people. Way different from my experience of travel. I ate all of my meals with her. I really enjoyed her company and would have liked to stay in touch but like so many of those encounters, I never even knew her name, much less contact information.

     The schedule for classes started at 5am and the person in the room I was in before me set the alarm for 4:45pm. Oops. Missed that meditation session. My bumbling through the day continued as I couldn’t find the 6am yoga class so I practiced in my room. There was a tour of the campus (900 or so acres with a community of about 250 members who live in the surrounding area and put in at least some time working at the Ashram) with some temple-ish places and a building where the guru is buried. It’s a beautiful peaceful place in the middle of nowhere. The tour guide had been coming here for 17 years before she moved to join the community last year. She goes to town (45-60 minutes away) once a month. No thanks.

     I learned some things that I didn’t expect. The food was simple vegetarian with lots of options to spice it up. I liked that. I could eat the same food and have it taste differently at each meal. And a constant availability of salad reminded me to do that at home more. It was very quiet, which made me realize how easy it is for me to make my life noisy. There were very few distractions and I liked that too. On the other hand, there were a lot of rules and not a lot of room for independent decision-making. That simplifies life and I can see the appeal... but not for long. I went to a ceremony and before it started, I asked the man who was going to perform it how long he had been in the community. He kinda snarled “Forty years.” Maybe he was having a bad day but I thought there should be a little joy in there somewhere…So, I’m glad I went and I was happy to return to my noisy distracting life.

     But not for long.

     Once again, I hauled Roger out to Puppy Camp and took off for The Penland School of Crafts, an hour or so away. I have wanted to go there for a long time and when Pam, a wonderful teacher of mosaic, was scheduled to teach, I said sign me up. And I am very glad I did. This was a 5+day class. The plus is because it runs Monday-Friday and ends on Saturday morning but also because the first couple days lasted into the wee hours for some (not me—I bailed at about a 14 hour day). We spent those days working with clay, making what Pam calls “Parts and Pieces” for the mosaic. The other days we nipped and broke and arranged and set and grouted. It’s…well...therapeutic. I really enjoyed the process. And it was a really supportive group that mostly got along (there’s always one…) and really seemed to care about each other. The setting of the School is gorgeous and peaceful, the food was good and varied, my accommodation was perfect for me and a good time was had by all. I look forward to the opportunity to return.

     My last trip of the month was to Baltimore. Amazing but true in these challenging times. A conference on women’s leadership I was really looking forward to but it was cancelled. I was disappointed for all, but in a way, that “free” weekend was welcome. Now, I am packing to go to my 40^th high school reunion. The difference is Roger gets to go too. And that is a good difference.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I am constantly being referred to important interesting thought provoking eye opening articles online and so I open a tab to save them until I can read them and or the browser says you have too many open—you have to close some. And then I read the articles and feel informed and smart, briefly. Occasionally, I close the browser by mistake (or like yesterday when the browser crashed and closed approximately 19 windows) and all those safely saved windows are closed and there is just a small relief that I don’t have to be that informed. There’s a fine line between informed and TMI/crazy-making.

• Neighbor Jeff had a dream the other night that Roger (who didn’t look like Roger but he knew he was Roger—you know, dream stuff) was riding a skateboard.
• The itty bitty book club is reading Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner. This is a favorite from long ago. Rereading it is so warm bath (does that term need explanation?). I find myself reading a few pages at a time, wanting to savor it.
• I hate it when I open the washing machine and the first thing I see are broken pen parts.
• Yesterday, I had to slow down on Main Street because a cat was crossing the street—in the crosswalk.

• I went to open a new bank account. The bank dude was open and honest. He said when I leave the state, I should go to the grocery store and get something and then get cash back rather than pay the ATM charges. He said, “You know—get something you like or will use--like gum…or kale.” I laughed and said, “That’s an interesting combo.” He shrugged, “This is Asheville.” Loved it.

• When I went to the bank, I thought I was looking pretty good—I had been to the library for my morning shift and was feeling put together. When they took a picture, I found this was not true. And it was going to be on my debit card…forever….The nice man suggested we take another one—“and maybe you could smile or something.”

• My job at the library recently has been withdrawing books that don’t deserve to remain on the shelf. It is a wonderful feeling of power. I used to hate it—it was sad for the book, especially when its history shows it only went out a handful of times—but now that I see how full the shelves get, a book that has gone out 11 times and not once in the past three years? Outa here! I am ruthless. Actually, the computer makes the decision but I like to feel I have a hand in it.

• In what I am thinking may be a never ending project of emptying the double-wide (which I have decided to call Upstairs—Roger, let’s go Upstairs!), I say to you: THROW OUT THE TWIST TIES. And the same for rusty paper clips and plastic bags…well, plastic bags are recyclable and so are paperclips but really…how many of these things does an elderly man need? I have a problem throwing things away too but now that I see it from the perspective of the person who is going to have to go through this mess? I’m thinking it is time to act…well, maybe next week.

• Last month was my birthday month and I have this unwritten rule that releases all spending restrictions. I am not a shopper really, except in April. Thank heavens that’s over. Well, there are still a couple things on order. But really, it’s time to stop.

“We had moved to Washington for the duration bent upon proving that the way to have an informed public opinion was to inform the public.” Wallace Stegner, “Crossing to Safety”

PNewL PNewS Volume 23. Issue 1

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PNewL PNewS

Volume 23 No. 1                         “All the pnews that phits.”                       March 2015

As My World Turns

To Crochet or Not to Crochet…

     I have been trying to learn to crochet for years. Not continually or constantly but I have tried many ways and with several people. I even went to a professional. Everyone kept saying put your hook in the hole. As a knitter, I can find a snot-load of holes in crochet. But for some reason, I have kept at it. Kinda reminds me of math. I had a high school math teacher I adored. She once told me that I should be a math teacher because it took me a while to catch on and it would make me sympathetic to students who had trouble with it too. Anyway, back to crochet.

     At Christmas, I got a lesson from Carolyn. I think I pushed her patience but the thing I did get was her enthusiasm for it and the encouragement that she is self-taught. So I came home with an itty-bitty start, which will be gotten to in a bit. I loaded the Craftsy Beginning Crochet class (great system online where I am taking five knitting classes and four quilting classes and now crochet and Tunisian crochet. It’s a series of videos I have access to forever, it’s available 24/7 and it saves my notes. I am taking so many classes that they gave me one for free. Love it.), and cross referenced it with the Reader’s Digest Guide to Needlework (1979) and YouTube and after two swatches of what looked pretty good which I tore out, it suddenly came to me—it’s THAT hole! Yay.

     Since then, I have crocheted a bathroom rug out of this silly yarn I bought online very late at night. It’s perfect for a rug and it was great practice for my new hobby. I am also in the process of crocheting a “market bag” out of kitchen string, which is the project I started with Carolyn. She wasn’t convinced string was the easiest thing for a beginner—but after a few months, it’s getting easier. After all of this, I am not very good at it but now, I am not totally frustrated by it.

Singing the Blues

     Peter and I were talking recently about ways to handle the blues. He said he had been advised to list three blessings of the day at the end of each day—that is three things that happened to him during the day for which I guess he feels blessed. After much discussion, which is fairly common in a conversation with Peter, we determined that for those of us for whom blessed and blessings are challenging words, we could replace them with three parts of the day that didn’t suck. This felt more palatable. I shared with him two things I try to remember when I don’t feel so hot. One is 1) to try to use positive language or at least be aware when I am using negative language, and 2) when driving and feeling really pissy, smile…for long stretches of time. Both work for me, and the latter works surprisingly fast. Peter added that he sings while he makes coffee and he finds that can brighten things a bit. So there you have it. Go forth feeling better or at least a little less sucky.

Readin’ and writin’…

     I am in a pretty casual, very small book club. It is very casual for me—I am usually out of town for the meetings, and last time, I had just gotten home from being out of town and slept through the meeting. They still let me come and next week we are even going to the beach together. It might feel less casual after that.

     Our last book was “All the Light We Cannot See” by Anthony Doerr who coincidentally went to the same high school my brothers went to and was there when David was head of the upper school. Almost like being related. I highly recommend it—but do not recommend listening to it. It’s very complicated and jumps around a bit and following all the names and relationships is challenging. His writing is beautiful and he can paint quite a picture and tell an epic story.     

     When I read his bio, I noticed he wrote a book about his experience of moving his family to Rome for a year of writing. His family included his wife and his recently born twins. I love travel books. I would like to live overseas but I don’t know that I am that sort of person but am envious of people who are and love to read about their experiences…It sounded pretty complicated, being new parents in a new city and country and language. I am envious. I am also envious of people who can write sentences like this one: “A spring night is a power that sweeps through the crowded sheaves of blooming tulips and pours into your heart like a river.” It just never occurs to me.

A Word about the Weather

     I think I have to say something. I mean it’s been a winter—not a Boston winter or a Cleveland winter, which Evie has reported doesn’t get enough credit for being truly brutal, or a San Francisco winter, which really didn’t happen, or a Key West winter where Laurie had to put on long pants and a sweatshirt, oh my!—and the greatest part about it is that we have actually seen evidence that it is going to end. I learned that Roger draws the line at 10 degrees. It’s hard on the paws. I find negative degrees on the digital read out thermometer gives me a form of vertigo. And when I watched Loveeta slide down the driveway and land on her back and head, I actually had time to wonder how the heck I was going to get her to hospital in this sheet of ice we were living on. (I did realize shortly thereafter that I could call an ambulance but…fortunately we didn’t have to.) The only funny part of that experience was that there were two guys trying to get the (was it salt or sand or cinder?) truck up the hill but it was stuck on the ice and they offered to help. Something just slightly chuckle-worthy to see an emergency vehicle unable to do its job.

     So, to you for whom weather is still an issue. My sympathies. Here in Western North Carolina, Spring is teasing us…daffodils are blooming, robins are everywhere. There is hope.

    

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• After many years of avoiding driving through or around Atlanta, I have now done it and lived to tell the tale. When I first set off, a wee bit nervous on general principle, I was facing the drive in the snow during rush hour. The snow proved to be too much so I had to stop several miles out and spend the night. The next morning, the roads were clear, everyone was home because a snow day had been called before the first flake fell and all was right with the world. Further proof that all that fussing doesn’t always add up to much.

• I spend way too much time thinking about people who don’t like me and I am sick of it. And now that I have said that, I realize I am only thinking about the people I know don’t like me—so I could now waste some time wondering who else doesn’t…nah. 

•I got this automatic response to an email recently and I love it. I wish I were so disciplined. “Thanks for your email! I check my inbox daily at 1 pm Pacific time.”

• I bought some mystery hand lotion online—I love hand lotion and I wanted to find a new favorite. This one is thick and creamy and smells like lemon frosting. Sounds icky, but it’s not.

• In search of some pictures I needed for some reason I have since forgotten, I found all sorts of gems. Makes me want to tackle those large boxes of photos…some day. And now that those boxes have been sitting in the living room for months, I don’t even notice them!

• Time seemed to jump today. Left to walk Roger and came back 90 minutes later. Tonight, it was 11 then suddenly 12. Maybe time acts differently when it's really cold?

• I bought a very expensive pair of sandals on eBay in December for a ridiculous amount of money ($20 plus shipping). No competition off-season I guess.

• I hate the part of a cold when I have run out of Kleenex and all that’s left is paper towels.

• Lurking on dating site OK Cupid, I came across this under one guy’s profile. After saying he didn’t discuss politics, he wrote, “I will have to say that if you voted for Obama and/or agree with the way he has abused his office, we probably won't get along.” I so want to know what he means.

• It is at this time of year that I get all complicated in my thoughts about how to be organized for next year’s tax season. I’ve already missed the boat for this year and that frustrates me, and I know I will be similarly frustrated next year. Ah the best of intentions…

• Roger has discovered a new favorite thing in the world. Fast food. I don’t go there much but twice now in his life with me, we have gotten into line and then this nice person hands a bag full of warm smelly food and he knows he will get a bite or two. I can almost read his mind: what could be better than opening your window to deliciousness. (He is after all a dog so his bar is pretty low when it comes to deliciousness!)

• I know this is not an anniversary anyone else will celebrate but in my life it is significant: The PNewL PNewS is now 23 years old. Yay!

“Fatigue is an excellent mechanism of our bodies and the best advisor as to whether one should rest or continue.” Thich Nhat Hanh

PNewL PNewS 22.4

                     

PNewL PNewS

Volume 22 No. 4          “All the pnews that phits.”              December 2014-January 2015

How’d it happen?                                                

      I have been having a hard time coming up with a theme for this issue. Plenty to say but nothing to tie it to. I’ve done train of thought versions before but I try not to overuse that. So I went back and re-read saved emails from some of you and Bingo! It started with Mean Jean announcing she is a grandmother (Grandma Mean). There seems to be a lot of that going around. Betsy became a grand-mother and she has declared herself the World’s First Grandmama and her granddaughter the WORLD’S FIRST GRANDDAUGHTER (her caps not mine). She has been pretty surprised by how taken she is with the little munchkin!

     I am really confused about this—how did it happen? So many friends are or are becoming grandparents! In my experience, grandparents are OLD. Wrinkly, grey (or white), a little unsteady, kinda serious—maybe even a little scary, but mostly just old. My friends are fun and active and still ready to rumble. It’s a bit disconcerting. This aging thing has caught up with me…again.

     [I had to take a few moments to check the PNewS archive to make sure I am not repeating myself, as I know that is part of being older. Then after a few moments I thought—who cares? This is what I am thinking about and what I find interesting. I remember Dad saying—in his 80s—that he felt in his mind like he was still 30 or so, and I looked at him like he was cracked. Dude, yer falling apart! But now I totally get it. I am still a kid at heart. I’m not sure that’s totally appropriate all the time, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I need to get out of these parentheses--they are making me nervous.]

     Phew. That’s better. So on top of this grandparent thing, I spent Christmas on Sanibel. It has been a good visit in a lot of ways—seeing old stomping grounds and friends, having good visits, sun and sand (and humidity but we’re not going to get stuck in the parentheses again…). And then there’s the aging thing popping up again. Some of these old friends are getting older. Many mentions of upcoming 70^th birthdays! I know several readers passed the 70^th threshold long ago, but it’s a little freaky. Heck, I had visits with two favorite friends who are in their mid-90s. I know, I know, it’s just a number but these are BIG numbers. I grew up in the “Don’t trust anyone over 30” era. This is so far from that; it makes me anxious…just a little.

     There is no conclusion to this essay. It’s just going to end. Like all of us. Ha!

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• My friend Brenda has been ringing bells at sunrise and sunset for years (like 6+). I thought it was a cool idea at first. Now I am in awe of her stick-to-it-ness. Because of this practice, she keeps a close eye on the times. Here’s one of her recent emails. I love this kind of stuff. “November 30 was the earliest that the sun will set this year (for this latitude [San Francisco], at least). It will continue to set at 4:51 PM for the next 12 days before it once again opens up the day and begins to set later. All of this before the Winter Solstice. How can this be, you may ask. Ah, well. The daylight continues to shrink because the sun is still rising later each day, eventually culminating on the shortest day a few weeks from now. I love this graceful and uneven approach to the Solstice and hope you enjoy this little factoid as much as I do.”

 • Michael had a good point. He’s on the road a lot so his reaction to my comment about not being able to get online struck a chord: “I hate the cloud.  I often work in locations where internet connections are sketchy at best.  (There’s history here…weren’t computers once all just terminals?  The great progress was we could have a small self-contained computer that was independent. Now it seems that computers are, once again, becoming terminals.) Interesting…hadn’t thought of it that way. And Michael’s first computer looked very much like a terminal. With a cassette drive!

• Kitchen sponges were a hot topic from last time. Lisa said, “I used to wash my kitchen sponge in the dishwasher until the health inspector at a friend’s B&B made her stop because it spreads the germs over all the dishes! Now I wash them in the washing machine in a lingerie bag so the scrubby side doesn’t rough up my clothes. I also use/prefer a dish cloth because I wash them much more often.” Not sure I could do that. Meanwhile, Marta puts hers in the microwave daily. 

• The dentist had to send me a reminder of my upcoming cleaning on Christmas? Is there no getting away from the harsh realities of life? (The library also reminded me I have a book due that is going to be late…)

• I was going to write something about the number of lists where Asheville has been showing up. The tourist bureau listed a bunch in an article in the paper recently. I threw it out because as much as I love y’all, it frightens me about the number of people who might wanna move here. According to these lists, we are literary (southern), quirky, friendly, foodies (because of all the restaurants), and good for dogs, newlyweds, weekend trippers, beer drinkers with a mountain biking problem, and did I say enough about how the restaurants rate? Then, National Geographic listed it as an up and coming city in its new book, The World’s Best Cities. Dang. (And since I started writing this, it’s been announced Frommer’s is listing Asheville as a top destination for 2015!)

     And then up comes an article saying that the 18^th brewery is opening in town. I did some googling and math. That means a brewery per 4800+folks of the 87,000+ who live in Asheville. ‘Course that led me to look at what is considered the Metropolitan area which includes my little “holler,” and three other counties (Madison, Henderson, and Haywood) that I probably wouldn’t include, but then again, no one asked me. And at ~427,000 in 2010 increased by somebody who knows better than me at an estimated 4.6% would be 446,642—not all of whom drink beer. Yes that was what I was talking about before I went off on this pretending I remember how to multiply percentages. Anyway, 446,000+ means there is a brewery per 24,777 people and that makes me a wee bit nervous. Are 18 breweries enough? Oh but wait—there are more breweries outside Asheville—Sierra Nevada, to name just one, has opened its eastern distribution center. Ok, I think we are safe…for now.

     P.S. I found the article with the lists of Best ofs where Asheville appears—I hadn’t thrown it away! It was buried on my desk and I was clearing the deck. I don’t get to that often because I am spinning my wheels trying to figure how many people drink beer and other such black holes of time. (Pinterest anyone?) But it is a wonderful feeling to feel like I know, for a brief moment what is on and around my desk. My dining room table is a whole other beast, which I never got to. There’s always next year.

• I am on a mailing list of an American nun named Nancy who lives in Haiti. She writes thought provoking, thoughtful emails every month or so. This past letter started, “One of the things I'm grateful for this year is the mistakes I've made. I used to regret them but one day I realized that if I never made mistakes, I wouldn't learn much.”

Things I am thankful for…2014

• Dogs at play

• Rediscovering bike riding (thanks Betsy!)

• That a few folks are still reading this

• Flowers blooming in winter

• Carolyn’s patience in attempting to teach me crochet!

• The Double-wide

• A couple of other things I have forgotten.

The Hall of Famers that repeat every year but don’t get stale:

* Friends and fabulous neighbors

* 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 luck of the draw

* My Mayberry life

------

New Year's Resolutions

(Again, some are repeats but good reminders)

* Continue search for Joy (the emotion, not the person)

(I took a few moments to look up Joy to find out what it is—I first wrote the concept of Joy but Wikipedia says it’s an emotion. Maybe that’s why I have a problem! I don’t even know what it is!)

* Hang out in coffee shops

* Dance more

* Laugh more

* Close them doors and let the windows open

* Learn to say no....diplomatically

* Have more fun

* Improve relationship with batteries (weak link in the chain IMHO)

PNewL PNewS 22.3

PNewL PNewS

Volume 22 No. 3                  “All the pnews that phits.”                  October 2014

The Styrofoam has Landed

     Roger and I had the opportunity to take a road trip to Ohio and then points northeast. We drove over 3000 miles and had an oddly wonderful time. That should be odd and wonderful but I really liked the sound of oddly wonderful which I recognize means something altogether different.

     The stop in Cleveland to visit Evie, and John, and the Scherbel-Taylor clan was just pretty wonderful. Nothing odd there. Evie has been looking for kayak put-ins. We went exploring the outer edges of northeastern Ohio. The weather was nice and the scenery was beautiful. We even saw three bald eagles and ran into former neighbor/friends along the road. One of the days we got to see David and Kim who happened to be in town for the memorial service of a friend. That was icing on the cake.

     My visit with John was poignant and comforting and funny. He has a brain tumor and I suppose, if I weren't in total denial, I would say he is facing his final rodeo. John and I met in kindergarten--and I went on my first date with him in 8th grade, but he has no memory of that milestone--and re-met in Los Angeles when one of the children I was in charge of told his teacher that I, too, liked the Cleveland Browns, and within one “do you know” question, we found we knew the same John. We were 22. We have been in touch ever since. It has not always been easy. We are both on the prickly side, but for some reason, we have remained in touch through quite a bit of coming and going, and that has been comforting, I believe, to both of us. I was nervous at first to see him. I just saw him in Carmel where he lived on the top of a mountain overlooking everything, but still I was afraid he would not be John. But despite all he is going through--and all his brain is going through--he was absolutely John. He was funny and pissed off and political. He was also touching and so honest about what is going on and how that makes him feel. I am so grateful for the time we had. Makes me wanna go back.

     Dinner with the Dean and Susi and Barb and Betsy and Ted was raucous good fun and delicious. I thank them for having me.

     On to Ithaca and cousins John and Natasha. It is always interesting to me to see where Canada cousins live when not on an island in Georgian Bay, in old pine cabins, wearing t-shirts and shorts. John and Natasha’s did not surprise me. They live on the outskirts of town backed up to a lotus pond with lotus blossoms standing high above the water’s surface. It is a beautiful setting and a neat old house. I wish I’d had more time to poke around. What a gorgeous drive and a beautiful area and of course, great company.

     This is when the odd started. Well, not quite yet: the drive across the rest of New York and even more in Vermont and New Hampshire was great. Trees, views, all good.

     Then the odd started. Well, first some background: I “won” a week at a cabin in New Hampshire at a silent auction. Gini was doing her usual summer road trip and met me there. It really was fine, but odd. Lake house, not quite on a lake. No swimming in the lake. Needed to put food in fridge because of mice, but fridge was pretty full already. No place to sit outside at the house (dock down at lake, across the lane and down the hill, was highly sit-table). No grill for cooking. No internet or cell phone coverage which meant daily trips to the front porch of the library—not all bad. “Welcome to Historic______” (We’ll leave the name blank to protect the town.) was followed by a deserted “historic downtown.”

     We made the best of it and that was good fun. Explored local areas, went to Peterborough which was charming. Read and crafted. Went to a yarn store that was inexplicably closed (returned the next day and it was great). Stopped at several thrift shops that were all closed on the days we tried. Oh…and the Hike. There is a nice looking park on the edge of town. We stopped there one afternoon to take a walk. There were trails and a map. (I just read that there were 20 miles of trails! I think we saw a lot of em.) A walk in the park on a loop trail. No biggie, eh? Au contraire! Two and a half hours later, we burst out of the park into a clearing, better known as the HIGHWAY. It was hot. We had not brought anything with us—no water, no phone, no money…we were just going on a loop trail! Only two foreign-to-this-area middle aged women and a small black dog. As we looked at where we were, we started walking…and I said we can’t walk on the highway, Gini said we couldn’t go back IN THERE (the park). So we went down the off ramp in hopes of…well, you gotta have hope. Gini wanted to go into the Rite Aid. I saw no hope there. Corporate America wouldn’t help us—I thought we should find a mom and pop place but we weren’t really in momandpop land. Gini sucked it up and went inside. A few minutes later she came out with a young woman who was carrying her keys. She loaned us her car to drive to ours and come back!!! She said it was the only thing she could think to do. Gini later reported that there were a group of people in the store and she knew eventually one of them would break and help, but it was the Rite Aid employee who finally did. We thanked her profusely got our car, gave her hers back along with a wad of money and a note of appreciation. She gave Roger a bottle of water. So many lessons learned, but my favorite part was when Gini said, You want to go back in there? Oh and the part where she got us a getaway car. My hero.

     I am running on too long so won’t go on too much about other odd and wonderful parts. Left Gini heading north while Roger and I headed down to Charlotte’s house for lunch (Cleveland cousin and it was equally interesting to see her digs. Nice place—fabulous garden. Oh my!) then on to Maine. A short visit with Chris and Sculley to see their new-to-them summer pad which is a neat place and in a great location. Some noodling around and driving so many many miles on the back roads of mid-coast  Maine, followed by a mini high school reunion where we ate drank looked up old classmates and then called them. A hilarious end of a fun odd trip. Well, not quite the end. There was still 16 hours of driving home and the only amusing part of that was when Roger refused to go into the motel. I knew then, it was time to go home.

PS The reference in the title may be a bit confusing. When I left Evie’s house, I took with me a large box of Styrofoam she had saved until someone came up with a way to recycle it near her. Wanting to help her get stuff out of her house and having just read there was some place that had started recycling Styrofoam in Asheville, I said, sure I will take it. I have since lost the article about the recycler but Publix takes it and I am heading south one day soon so I will add it to my pile and Roger might just have to share the backseat with a lot of Styrofoam trays. Meanwhile, the Styrofoam has landed in Weaverville.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

•  A friend of my Facebook friend Babbie described her as a glutton for opportunity. I love that. I am stealing it. Done.

• Our local Women Build at Habitat lucked out to have a patron—The Lunch Lady, a woman named Barbara, who made lunch once a week during the build. This past year, she died. It has been and will be a great loss. At the Key Passing ceremony, we honored her (there will be more opportunities to honor her as we dedicate the kitchen on Women Build 2015 in her honor…you’ll hear more about that later). While Tricia and I were planning the ceremony on the phone, we got to the part about Barbara. I heard this ding. I walked cautiously, thinking there might be some weirdo out there ringing the bell hanging on the front porch. It was swinging...one part of me says it was a hummingbird, one part wonders where Barbara was right then. Another cool Barbara story: her husband emailed Betsy at Habitat to find out when the Key Passing was and it turned out we had scheduled it on their wedding anniversary. Gives me goosebumps.

• There is a young man in our neighborhood who is messing around with a large piece of property, empty land. It is his right to do—we have no zoning here. I remember when I first moved here, Gini said something like, While it is nice to be surrounded by all this undeveloped land, that means someone could do something you wouldn’t like on it one day. Now there is a 51 acre property up on the mountain at the end of the valley for sale. Holding my breath.

• I used to think, as I sat waiting for the Marin Airporter or more accurately pacing at SFO, that this was where my life actually took place and all the fun running around craziness was fleeting fantasy. Just recently, I had that same feeling in my bathroom at home!

• I have started inviting my creative friends over for what Gini calls parallel play at the Clubhouse (AKA The Doublewide). It’s just started but the first gathering was promising—six of us sitting around doing our own thing and visiting. It was good. At some point in my California life, I was in a class that was for educated women who wanted to figure out what we really wanted to do with our lives. One of the exercises was to fantasize about what it looked like. I envisioned this scenario where I lived in a house by myself but people came during the day to do whatever we did, but in close proximity. (I actually think we were doing some very productive good work.) In a very small way, this has started though, instead, different kind of good productive work--we are making stuff. I like it. (Wanna come? Let me know!)

•  It is only occasionally in my funny little life, that I am on deadline and really need the internet's support. Today is one of those days. I put something off to the last minute (now) and after resetting and checking connections, I called tech support and the ONLY message for outage in a multi-state area is "in and around Weaverville NC.” Really? Such luck. And I keep coming up with alternative things to do and they all revolve around the internet. This is when the cloud is really not useful. I could balance my checkbook but the statement hasn't been downloaded. The bills I need to pay? Online. The file for book prices I need to update? Dropbox. So predictable.

• At Chris and Sculley’s birthdays party, we had a remarkably lengthy conversation about…kitchen sponges! Who knew people had such strong opinions. Ruth often travels with a brand new sponge. Put your sponges in the dishwasher? Of course (and I do too). There were a few looks around the table that made me think not everyone was anti-bacteria obsessed. Ruth said she expected to see this in the PNewS. Here it is!

• An early morning wander around downtown Asheville is refreshing and kind of educational. It’s quiet and cool and the streets are empty. I suppose somewhere there are people going to work but it doesn't feel like that despite it being almost 9am. Tourists are apparently elsewhere, sleeping or eating. Retail shops remain locked up tight. It's a different time in a familiar place. The only things open are pushing coffee. I am reminded that I enjoy hanging out in coffee shops though after my maximum of one designer coffee...what then? I linger over a bubbly water.

• What is it about all the books on apparently all of our bedside tables? I know we are all still reading. What puts these in last place? Me? It's the library--too many temptations there with due dates so they get priority, but I have put a moratorium on library books. I just wiped off hunks of dust (it's humid) off the books on the bedside table and that caused me to set the limit! (Tom Bodett on “Wait Wait Don't Tell Me” said he decided he had read books that lived on his bedside table longer than six months...via osmosis…)

• Apparently, I have a hierarchy of Things I Don’t Like To Do. This morning I needed to call the electrician. I decided to do dishes instead and I hate doing dishes.

•  I have been thinking a lot lately about how we communicate. I have said this before but it just seems to get harder. For instance, I prefer email, hate the phone. But email is dicey—none of the nuances of verbal conversation. And timing is challenging. Some people are regular email checkers. Some do it once a day.  Sometimes I just have to pick up the phone. I am teetering on the edge of texting. I am beginning to see its value and the increasing number of people for whom it is a preferred form of communication, but it means a new phone and plan (and more money). Sigh. See? It just gets harder.

 •  It is interesting to see who falls into the thousands of emails in the inbox sort vs. the nice tidy filed inbox type. People I really like have bursting inboxes while I go wacko when there are more than…well, I can now tolerate 100 pretty well, though prefer under 50.

 No quote to end this issue. I just ask you to

PLEASE VOTE.

Thanks.