PNewL PNewS Volume 23 Issue 4. October 2015

PNewL PNewS

Volume 23 No. 4               “All the pnews that phits.”                          October 2015

What is Hard Work?

     I got an email from a woman I have been working with who wrote, Thank you for your hard work. It stopped me in my tracks. Some things take me years to “get.” Hard work? What is hard work? I am not a brain surgeon or otherwise saving lives. I am not digging ditches or building houses. I am not a first responder. I am not raising or teaching small children. I do not consider anything I have done in my work life as particularly hard. Sometimes it was annoying—working on the west coast and getting phone calls returned to my home at 5am PT from the east coast’s 8am and trying to sound like I was already at my desk was exhausting and challenging but it was not really hard. Spelling medical terms or finding doctors who would talk to me was frustrating but it did not raise a sweat.

     I have been working on a project that has been a lot of fun and is one of those experiences that makes me feel good about collaboration. There have been a number of balls to keep in the air and things to remember but it has been so much fun and wound up being a big success–where’s the hard part? I am connecting with people who I might not have met otherwise. I reached out to people in the community I might have been intimidated by under other circumstances so it was not hard—it was…am I really going to say it? Empowering.

     On a completely unrelated subject but stay with me here, this summer I learned what people have said all these years about mint. Pardon my language but it is a royal pain in the ass and I regret the day I thought, “How bad can it be?” If the root structure carried electricity, it would power Weaverville and that covers some territory. I planted one plant…something like pineapple mint, which I never really figured out how to use…in a 4x8 slightly raised bed. It took over. I spent an hour or so pulling it out this afternoon. I will confess—that felt like hard work, but it was only an hour.

     I guess what one considers hard work is personal. Now that I think of it, getting the doublewide ready for tenants was and still is hard because people don’t do what they say they are going to do, they don’t return phone calls, they really don’t want to work on 40 year old doublewides, but it feels a little more like torture than hard work. The nice man who cleaned up all the overactive growth in my yard in a mere four hours didn’t seem to find it all that hard though it might have killed me, or more likely never would have happened.

     Perhaps I think hard work must be physical and painful and messy. Perhaps the hard work I have done I don’t remember because the relief of it being over is what I remember. Perhaps it’s all one’s perspective.

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• One of the joys of living where I live is the renewal of a friendship from high school. Patsy and her husband Ernie are great friends and frequent dining companions when they are in town. One of their passions is television so you can imagine their horror when I disconnected my satellite dish—something they call my "TV situation." Recently, Patsy emailed that it was time for me to “consider prioritizing the role of television in a rich, fulfilled life.”

• I came across the names of my San Anselmo neighbors in my address book and wondered about them. We were neighbors for 15 years+ and we were friendly but we didn’t hang out. They were older and…different. She once said she thought my yard looked great despite the fact that it was all weeds. Another time, she offered to take some stuff I had left in my driveway too long to the dump. Her husband didn’t talk much and didn’t have many teeth and he went somewhere in a rumbly truck at dawn most mornings…but he was friendly. Seeing their names, I googled them. They didn’t strike me as folks who would have much of an internet presence. I don’t know why but I was struck hard to find Berne’s obituary dated 6/22/08 (Don seems to be still alive and living in the same house). I was probably in California then, maybe even driving by to check on the old neighborhood. It was also the June I moved to North Carolina. It was a poignant search.

 • The latest foster dog is still here and I can’t seem to figure out how to send him on his way. I signed up for two weeks but then the rains hit South Carolina and the shelter was inundated with SC shelter animals and I just couldn’t imagine forcing them to take one more. Then Frankie the nervous (aren’t they all?) Chihuahua started biting folks in the neighborhood. He was surrendered by his previous family for biting one of the children. At my house, he is precious. I enjoy his company—he’s cuddle-y and he’s darling—he plays tug o’ war all day with Roger. Outside, he is wretched. He barks the whole time. If he gets off leash, he literally disappears. He is so fast he can be three properties away before I finish tying my shoes.  He’s so little and so cute everyone thinks he’s harmless which is when the biting begins. [Since the above was written, I finally said Enough. I had come to love Frankie but I knew the time had come for him to move on. I told the Shelter when I was bringing him in and enjoyed our final days together. I took him in and waited for them to rearrange crates. I set him in one with tears streaming down my face and Frankie shaking like a leaf and looking a little like he was thinking “Traitor!” By the time I got home, there was a message in the Daily Begging letter saying he’d been snapped up by another foster home. Yay!]

• As I am starting to go through paperwork in my effort to eliminate the overwhelm, I have come across files that have not been touched in years. It’s fascinating. From a file marked “Fun Stuff: PNewS”: Reduce discomfort from poison ivy by rubbing the rash with the inside of a banana peel (USA Today, 2009) I recycled the rest as it was all crazily out of date.

• Lately I have been watching people near to me go through life changing experiences and it gives me pause. I keep thinking, these are things that will affect the rest of their lives. David emailed while having chemo. Elspeth, Andy and Henry came home with a 4-day-old baby. Others are experiencing the later days of their parents or the old age wake up calls themselves. It’s one of those times that life feels Big and Real. Meanwhile, I am rolling up socks and shredding old bank statements which is fine with me.

• At the last meeting of the itty bitty knitting group, one member said she thought she might have enough yarn to last her the rest of her life…or something like that. I panicked. Does that mean we have to stop buying yarn? Noooooooooooooo!

• For the last few issues of this PNewSletter, I have been battling with horizontal lines that didn’t seem to want to go away. I was so frustrated. Nothing I did did anything to them—I could not delete, I could not erase. Finally, I googled it and there it was! The internet is amazing. (In case you were wondering, the line was no longer a line--it had morphed into a border. You go to the border section, choose None and kaboom: Gone!)

• It occurred to me as I walked with Roger this morning that I have lived in places for over 30 years where every single morning is gorgeous and often different. I am feeling that thanks-giving season coming on.

The WNC Version of Life-changing Decluttering

     In case some of you missed it, Life-Changing Magic of Tidying up: the Japanese Art of Decluttering by Marie Kondo is a popular new book. I was skeptical, but Jean said she learned some things but hadn’t put any of them to use. Ha. (Jill the librarian confirmed that she had not heard of anyone who had actually followed through on suggestions made in the book.) Still, I was inspired.

     So I folded all my t-shirts and stood them up in the drawer and then I was really inspired. It sounds goofy but it works—I can now see all my t-shirts—and I have a LOT (fewer than I had before but still a lot)—and now I don’t wear the same ones over and over. Socks? OMG—I have great socks and they have been separated and hiding all these years. There is even a yellow section of socks from my sock dyeing period. Who knew?      

     Then I started going through my closet, which I dreaded. When I looked at the pile I was giving away, I was really surprised. The basic concept from the book is to only keep what you love, which I amended to only keep what fits and looks okay. I have some clothes I love but look like hell on me so they are going to some other home where the person—and my clothes—may shine.

     My clothes closet is still not finished. I have left the shoes and blue jeans until later. I wandered in there this morning and found that I actually own silver shoes, which will come in handy for an event next week, and inside the shoes? A necklace I have been looking for…well, for longer than I care to admit.

     And this is just the beginning—yesterday I took a stack of towels (I swear they have been multiply-ing in my linen closet!) and clothes from Ray’s to the homeless shelter, plus boxes and boxes to the recycling center. Today, I have boxes and boxes of books to take to the library—some of them belong to the library but that’s another story…Last night, instead of doing something fun, found me going through files and recycling or sending the contents to the shredder. (My shredder says it takes five pages at a time. Au contraire…I’m shredding two pages at a time. Sigh. But that is not quenching the fire to de-clutter!)

     I have heard people speak (and it was probably also in this book) of how eliminating a lot of miscellaneous stuff feels like relieving a burden. I was not then but am now a believer. I will always have a lot of stuff. It is the lot in life for a crafty type who is also the offspring of two packrats, but I am enjoying the feeling of cleaning out a lot of too much. I own a queen size bed and a full guest bed—how many sets of single sheets do I need? And where did they come from? And why have I saved them?

     I think the key to my success is this: when dealing with any subset---blouses, for instance--bring them ALL out of the closet and lay them on the bed (get rid of the foster Chihuahua first), and then put them back in one at a time. It has made all the difference for me.

     I so hope I can keep this up and see it through. But now the sun is out and that distracts me. Rain returns tomorrow night and that’s not all bad.

Happy Autumn Y’all!

“I want people to remember me for laughter…

and that I was a good guy.” Art Buchwald

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