Never

One of my philosophies in this life is that it's ok to make a mistake as long as you don't keep repeating it. So I should know by now- I do know it, daggone it- that one should be extraordinarily cautious when using the word never. I have had "never" jump up and slap me on more than one occasion, and yet I stubbornly continue to use the word.

I had always said that once we adopt an animal into our home we will never return it. And until now, I had kept that never going. Through countless collie poop messes (Winnie), pee messes (Ernie), injury (Mistie), cancer and allergies (Lady), yada yada yada, we have stayed the course, not ever thinking otherwise. Never caught up with me again. Ginny is back with her mother and sibs at the breeder's.

She was the cutest little collie pup ever but she didn't fit into our animal house, hard as we tried to make things work. Our vet noticed at meeting Ginny- this was a dog who had a dominant personality. He advised us to start to immediately teaching Ginny that she might, at best, be #3 alpha behind Jim and me. We found that this was no problem. But she took her #3 spot too seriously. Poor Mistie and the cats were continually subject to nips on the behind. Mistie couldn't get on the floor without the puppy chasing her, eating her food, and pushing her out of the way, and Mistie didn't fight back. The cats were driven away when they came to get a drink of water. And in spite of Jim's and my best effort to love and play with her, she seemed most interested in biting our ankles. After 2 weeks with no improvement, we came to the sad and unprecedented conclusion that it wasn't working out at all and Ginny's behavior was making life miserable for all of us.

We were told that Ginny is happy back with her mom. It was inferred that we were responsible for Ginny's behavior and had not treated her well. Knowing otherwise, we miss the little puppy we had hoped for and want nothing but a happy life for Ginny. Peace has returned to our home and the cats and Mistie are becoming themselves again. We ponder our next move.

I still will never drive behind a city bus.

A New Friend

For us, home just isn't home without a collie. Welcome Ginny!

Ernie and his funnel

Over the years, we have spent a ridiculous amount of money on animal toys. The dogs have had balls, ropes, squeaky toys (Lady's favorite!) , rubber bones and multiple kongs. The cats have had enough fake mice that, had they been real, could overrun a city the size of Chicago. The mice are in addition to puffy balls, plastic balls, and bamboo balls; feathers, socks, and scratch posts. One toy was a wood square covered in carpet with a spring sticking up from the middle with a little puff ball at the top. Another was a motion sensitive mouse hanging from a string that was to be attached to the top of a door; as the cat batted at the mouse, the mouse let out a fake, bizarre noise that was supposed to be a squeak, but caused us to put it away after about 5 minutes. The rabbits, not to be left out, have had a variety of items to chew up and plastic baby toys to fling around.

Like children who receive an expensive toy but prefer to play with the box or a kitchen spoon, so it is with the animals. The dogs played mostly with sticks from the yard. In fairness, Nell loved the little mice that came 5 to a package, but the collies ate them as fast as they found them. And the rabbits are just as happy chewing a free cardboard box. Ernie, being nothing more than a 4 year old boy with red hair disguised as a cat, has spent hours- literally- playing with a mini funnel.

The little funnel came into our home with jewelry designed to hold a small amount of cremains. The funnel was needed to direct the ashes into a tiny opening in the heart, as it was in this case. Thinking the funnel might come in handy down the road, I cleaned it and put it in our "junk drawer" in the kitchen. I don't recall why the thing was taken out of the drawer, but somehow Ernie discovered it. He has been obsessed ever since. It's hard to tell what exactly is so appealing about it: the weight or the shape or maybe the sound it makes as it slides over the floor. Regardless, he loves batting it and chasing it endlessly. He picks it up in his mouth by the pointed tip and carries it to some new place where he drops it and commences the chase. No matter what else he is doing, he can be redirected if I find his funnel. If he is upstairs and I drop it downstairs on the floor, he knows the sound and comes flying down the steps to claim it.

His funnel has had extensive use, and I noticed last week that the tip had started to separate from the bowl. Being at his beck and call, I googled "mini funnels" and found multiple sites that have them. The shipping cost almost twice the cost of 6 funnels, but it was worth knowing that my little red haired boy disguised as a cat will have funnels to chase for many months to come.

Autumn at home

Hard as it is to believe, another fall is coming to a close. I just yesterday raked the leaves from this tree off the grass and put the little crow back into the garage, along with my gardening tools. There are still a few chores to do before giving my trowels and weeders a cleaning and storing them away. I have moved some perennials to different places- quite a few to the back yard- and they seem happy in their new locations. There are a few blooms yet on the blanket flowers in Jessie's garden, but the cone flowers, dahlias and monarda are dried stalks with black seed heads. I leave them up for the birds to eat after the rest of the natural food is gone as winter settles in.

We have had some beautiful views of the moon in September and October. The nights are clear and cool, perfect for going out after dark and sky gazing. Early in the mornings before sunrise, the big dipper hangs in the sky to the north. I have read that if you follow the bottom 2 stars in the bucket, they point to the north star. Hard as I've tried, I can't seem to see it; maybe we have too much artificial light.

On the sunny days when the temperature has gone into the 60's, we open the windows so the cats can sit on their perches and sniff the air. I feel badly for them when winter is here and the windows and doors are closed. They still look out, but can't sniff the little chipmunks, squirrels, and other outdoor smells. Just now, the front window is still open, as it has been a warm day, and Ollie is at the window. There must be a night creature out there; he follows some movement intently. Nell lays on my lap and Mistie snores beside me on the couch. It is a peaceful November evening here at home, and I am thankful.

Sentinal

This old barn sits silently about 100 yards from the Hilliard bike trail, a part of the autumn landscape on a sunny October day. As I came upon it recently while rollerblading, it occurred to me that the barn has been one of the few unchanging characters here, probably for more than my lifetime. If its walls could speak, would they tell of days long gone, when trains used to make their way by, back when this was a rail line instead of the paved trail it now is? I can almost see the train cars, day and night, flying by when the barn was new and maybe painted red, hauling coal, cattle, or cars to far away places, a caboose the last sight as each train faded into the distance. Or perhaps the tale would be of corn and wheat spreading as far as one could see where now there are subdivisions with new homes, swing sets in the backyards and rose bushes where wildflowers used to grow. What was it like, before the roads were laid and the people came in great numbers, back when the sounds of the day were mostly birdsong or the rustle of the wind in the drying cornfields? Or when the lights at night came solely from the moon and stars?

Whenever I am out on my blades I always have music; moving in rhythm with different songs is dancing on wheels. But often I stop, as I did this day, to turn off the music and hear only the sounds of nature. Sometimes it isn't possible if a car goes by in the distance or a plane flies over. But as I stood, contemplating the changes this area has witnessed, all I could hear was the sound of the wind and the birds. And I wondered; when I am gone, will this old barn remember me too?

All I need is my car and this potato masher

Kayden and Gramma had a sleepover last night, and boy did we have a good time! At almost 10 months, he is becoming a little person and it is priceless to be a part of his growing. Heidi, with a mother's foresight, brought along Kayden's wheels- this hot car with a horn! Our hardwood floors were the perfect surface for him to motor on, and he took advantage of the ideal driving conditions. And what would a night on the town in your new car be without...a potato masher??!! He peddled, Fred Flintstone-style, holding the masher aloft like a sword. Thankfully the cats ran for cover or they would have been roadkill for sure.

At around 10 PM, Kayden had a bath (with the masher) and I put him to bed, just as Mom instructed. Ha! Not so fast, Gramma. Apparently Kayden already heard that at Gramma's you get to stay up LATE and he was planning on that. I laid him down and he popped up. I tried to hold him sideways, like he used to prefer, and he cried more. So, we went in to Gramma's room, turned out the light and sat in the rocker. At first, he pointed at things in the dark, but Gramma was not feeling very chatty at 11:30 PM, so we just rocked. Soon, his head was starting to sway back and forth, and he finally fell asleep on my shoulder.

Of Tears

And I know there'll be no more....Tears in heaven
~ Eric Clapton

Tears ~ How could we go on without them? There is a connection between the human heart and the flow of salty drops from our eyes that defies explanation. Both the greatest joy and the most piercing sorrow find expression in tears.
How unkind it would be to permit the intensity of feelings encountered in a lifetime without also providing the ability to weep!
I think of times in my life when happiness filled my heart and times when the pain of loss seemed more than I could bare; times of hearing beautiful music or seeing earth's loveliness; times, as well, of intense anger at injustice or cruelty. At each of these moments in my journey, I give thanks that my eyes knew how to weep, releasing emotions too great to be contained.

Healing at Glacier Ridge

This weekend marked my return to rollerblading at Glacier Ridge Park. As the summer weeks passed, I thought often of how the park was changing from how I left it before my injury, with summer just beginning.
Saturday was a clear cool September morning; the flowers and grasses were showcased beautifully as the sun grew higher. As I knew it would be, the park is wearing the beginning colors of autumn; silvers, purple and goldenrod have replaced the bright green foliage of early June.
Skating is a liberating exercise for me, and some of the wrinkles of my soul expanded as the path went through the woods and past these fields. My thoughts were of the summer and the months preceding it, and I grieved the passing of Patience, Winnie and Lady. Something of the bright sunshine and happy meadows led me to think of them and to hope with every part of my being that we will all meet again someday, somewhere. I was comforted, as always, in thinking of them together- with little Jessie- whole and carefree, romping through meadows such as these.

Adjusting

Collies have been part of our home for almost twelve years and our house isn't the same without Lady and Winnie. Jim's mom, Dot, loved dachshunds, and Jim grew up with a series of them. Dot's grandchildren will always remember her for that. For the early years of her life, Jim's Leah called Dot "Trini Gramma" because of Katrina, Dot's wiener dog at that time. I mentioned to Jim that Kayden will also have a gramma and grampa with a dachshund, as Mistie is our only dog for now. I know that we both were thinking, sadly, that Kayden will never know our home with Lady and Winnie.

They took up most of the floor space lying in the living room, and brought in a good bit of the back yard when coming inside. Our kitchen floor bore the markings of their presence - twigs and leaves from the backyard that came in on their fur, muddy footprints if it rained, and drops of water trailing into the next room after they had a drink. I learned to clean the floor with the expectation that it would be improved, but not perfect, as it would be only a matter of minutes after putting the mop away before their leavings would start to re- accumulate. They left lots of fur on the floor and nose prints on the storm doors. Mowing the back yard always was preceded by de-dog-pooping, and they would bark at every dog being walked by the house until the walls rattled.

But now, there is no barking and the kitchen floor is clean although it hasn't been mopped in several days. I mowed the back yard for the first time at this house with no pre-cleaning. A few of Lady's nose prints remain on the front storm door. I couldn't think of wiping them away.

Until we meet again

Lady's Summer Grace
December 12, 1996 - August 14, 2009

Sitting up!

Kayden, now seven months old, has learned to sit up all by himself, and had his first tooth coming in yesterday. He also has started rudimentary speech patterns: Heidi and I took him to the Ohio State Fair last week, and from his stroller there was a frequent sequence of "da da da's" as we walked along. He just keeps getting cuter and cuter, and that smile!

I watched and marveled at my own children's development, but there is something different and almost more endearing and amazing watching Kayden grow. How incredible it is that a mere half year ago he was unable to do much of anything. Now he rolls around, sits up, holds onto and examines toys, and holds his mouth open like a baby bird to have food spooned in. He knows his mommy and daddy, Uncle Aaron, and Gramma. He is beginning to learn what he likes and what he doesn't; at the fair, he was a bit afraid of the big horses, turning his head and clutching Heidi.

This weekend, Heidi and Ashley are in a wedding, and Kayden is spending Saturday and Sunday with Jim and me. I am so looking forward to spending time with my little grandson!

The story of Mr. Bailey

Everyone has a shop or store that is dangerous to enter. By that, I mean dangerous to the budget because you know that even though all you went in for was X, you will leave with at least X,Y, and Z, and maybe a bit of A through W as well. Some of my friends say Target department stores are like that, and one friend is like that at shoe stores.

Our dangerous store is Complete Petmart. We like to buy our animal essentials there because they don't sell animals (a BIG plus in my book) and because they always have a cat from a local rescue in the store for adoption. Plus, the manager orders the cat litter we like as a special order. We're REALLY good cat litter customers. So every time Jim or I goes into Petmart we stop and visit the current cat. Usually, we only see a cat there for a week or so and they are gone to a new home. Enter Bailey...

On one of his routine visits, Jim stopped to pet Bailey, who seemed like a very sweet , laid back cat. Bailey had been found in an alley with other cats,all believed to be feral. They, including Bailey, were captured in order to be spayed or neutered, then would be released. As it turned out, Bailey was very human friendly, so he was taken in for adoption. Like all strays, Bailey suffered the risks of roaming, as his tail had been injured and was infected. It was too far gone to save, so he had a tail-ectomy and his healed tail is a stump. Sweet cat with a sad past = very adoptable. A week later, I stopped in for something- probably litter-and met Bailey, who seemed like such a nice cat that I commented about him to Jim. Neither of us, having met him, could understand why he hadn't been adopted yet. A week later he was still there and that's when the danger really started because my heart has a very loud mouth when it feels like it, and it was saying things like "No cat should have to beg for weeks for a home."

As I'm sure the end of this story was clear from the beginning, Bailey and his stump tail became a member of our family in June. He never had any trouble fitting in- even Nell, who would like to be an only cat, tolerates him. And we think Sam, our manx, is happy to have a tail-less brother to play with.

Pool party

Yesterday I went out on a mission to find a little pool for Kayden to play in when he comes to Gramma and Grampas' house. I was very excited to find a pool big enough for the big people to get in too, so I brought it home and filled it up. (It is even heated- by carrying buckets of hot water from the kitchen!)

This afternoon, the big man came over with his mommy to check it out. He has cute little plaid trunks, and there are diapers now that don't soak up half the pool water- who knew?? In spite of the temperature being only 80 degrees, which is pretty cool for mid- July around here, they spent a little time in the pool. Kayden slapped the water and laughed, but it wasn't long before he got cold and traded his stylin' trunks for a warm towel, a bottle, and a nap on the porch swing.

Fly Catcher

We don't need to see the Cirque du Soleil at our house. All we have to do to sit back and watch amazing acrobatic feats is to let a fly in the house. The leaps! The double twists and lunges! The gallops across the floor! !
There is the little difference that our performers try to kill each other for the prize. The growling! The hisses and dirty looks! The pounces and take downs!!
For the price of a few cans of Friskies we can have in-home entertainment.
I just wish they wouldn't eat the fly when the show is over. Triple yuck.

A Break

Yep, a break. From nursing, fixing my hair, and just about everything else that requires the use of both hands. And probably, sadly, from rollerblading for the rest of the summer.

I went out for a blade Thursday the 18th after work. It had been a beautiful day and I went straight from work to the Olentangy bike trail, changing from my scrubs to roller attire in the car. It was the joyous, free flying, as-close-as-you-can-get-to-dancing-along-the-sidewalk fun it usually is. I went all the way to the end of the trail and was nearly back when my right skate hit something slick as I pushed off. With a complete loss of balance, I fell forward onto my left hand, then rolled to my right side. In the seconds it took to fall, I was having a conversation with myself regarding what the outcome would be: the usual getting up, wiping off the dirt, suffering a scrape and possible humiliation if someone was watching, or something more. I sat up, looked at my wrist, and noticed immediately, being a trained health care professional, that #$@!!, it was broken, as my wrist and hand had a funny "s" shape that didn't use to be there.

Many kind folks stopped to help, and a couple walked up off the path with me, as the medics were unable to reach us on the trail. They hauled my sweaty, dirt-covered self to the OSU ED, where Jim was waiting and my previous co-workers took excellent care of me. Last Monday I had a plate and multiple pins surgically placed- an ORIF, or open reduction, internal fixation of my shattered and dislocated distal radius, followed by tender loving care from my husband, mom, and sibs.

I have become pretty good at one- handing a lot of things: hanging sheets on the line (teeth involved); mopping the kitchen floor (propping the mop handle on my thigh as I used my right hand to scrub), and typing. I haven't figured out how to do ANYTHING with my hair with only one hand, nor can I floss, and that's one thing I won't ask for help with. While I wait, Jim and I will research and buy a good wrist brace that will be my concession to begin dancing on wheels, flying free once again.

A talented artist

My stepdaughter, Leah Elizabeth, was given a special gift of artistry. Even as a young child, she would add some special angle or perspective that I would have never thought of, and it made the picture more realistic. Her drawing skills have continued to grow and her current etchings of women, fairies, and dresses are truly amazing.

The figure she is painting in this picture began as a lump of clay. Leah *formed a 3 dimensional woman wearing a white shirt and denim jean shorts, complete with miniature back pockets.
She is amazing.
* Actually, her original figure was blown into pieces when the kiln "blew up", requiring a substantial redo.

Mischief wrapped in orange fur

It's a lovely, cool Sunday morning- the last day of May. Having spent nearly all day yesterday weeding, digging, tilling and planting, I thought I would blog about flowers, or gardening, or early Sunday mornings in the garden.
As I sat down to compose said blog, life intervened in the person of Ernie. With rapt attention he followed the cursor as it moved over the screen, climbing from my lap to beside my lap to on top of the keyboard so that I had to peer around him to see what I was doing. He made multiple lunges at the screen- planning to attack, kill and eat the cursor, no doubt. One of these attempts resulted in the O, 9, and P keys flying loose from their positions onto the couch. Having replaced them, I decided that the flower blog could wait for another day.
Now that I'm finished, he's sleeping quietly on my lap, and we both are enjoying a quiet Sunday morning.

My Buddy

Kayden and I had a sleepover Saturday night, so his mom and dad could go out for the evening. In anticipation of his arrival, I went shopping earlier in the day for a few new things. We didn't have a seat for him, and I found this brightly colored chair that converts into a rocker when he is older. Also, what baby doesn't need a string of brightly colored rings??

After Heidi dropped him off, we went for a walk, which he seemed to enjoy, taking in the sights from his stroller seat. Saturday was very warm and muggy for May, so we didn't stay out very long. We passed the evening doing baby things- having a bottle, rocking in the chair, and holding his little hands so he could stand up in my lap.
Around 11PM I gave him a bath, put on a dry diaper and his jammies, and rocked him to sleep as he had his last bottle for the evening. There is no greater bliss than holding your sleeping grandchild, watching his little belly rise and fall and smelling the sweetness of him.

Sunday morning he slept very late, and I checked on him about 200 times just to make sure he was OK. He finally woke around 10:30. I quickly changed his very soggy diaper, fixed a bottle which he ate in record time, and then we played with his new rings. He was able to hold on to them and lost no time stuffing a ring into his mouth. We talked a little about the different colors and decided his favorite was purple (grape?). As we played, Mistie wandered by, and this picture was taken as Kayden looked over at her. He has 3 cats at at his home, and I think he was trying to figure out what this dog/cat was.

Fancy Easter Baby

Kayden was Mr. Baby GQ on his first Easter, dressed to the nines. He had an Easter basket with a fuzzy white chicken- bunny and a new rattle, and was a great success hunting eggs.

Once upon a time about 27 years ago, I dressed my little boy in his first Easter outfit. Peter was about 2 months old and had a yellow terry cloth sleeper with a little white tail and a bib with "My First Easter" embroidered on it. Back in those days, there were no gathers on the legs of paper diapers. Baby poop had a tendency to shoot right out the side, which is exactly what happened about 5 minutes after Peter was all dressed to go. Somehow I had enough time to remove his poopy- legged outfit and throw it in the washer before we left to show him off. I pulled it from the dryer, dressed him again, and we were off. As I recall, we did actually get to have a few pictures with Grandma and Grandpa before a repeat diaper failure occurred. Say what you want about the "good old days", but I think gathered leg diapers make today a better place.

Kayden

Through all the sadness of the past month, Kayden is my one constant source of happiness and laughter. At 3 months old, he is a happy baby who loves to smile. His little fist is in his mouth most of the time and the "drooly" stage has started. Several nights ago I was caring for him while Heidi and Ashley went out for the evening. He had finished his bottle around 11PM and I was holding him while swaying back and forth as he gradually went to sleep. Just as his eyes closed he let out this little chuckle and smiled- like he was thinking of something amusing.

In memory of our Winnie

We lost our beloved Winnie on Thursday, April 2. Advancing arthritis had gradually been making walking difficult for her, and on Wednesday she lost the use of her back legs. She had lived a full life and was surrounded by love for the last 9 years we we were blessed to have her as a member of our family. Home is not the same without her smile.

Patience Kitty

"To make a difference in the life of another..."
Patience was not a social cat. After she came to live with us she spent the first month upstairs, hiding under the futon. Gradually she came step-by-step down the stairs, and came to be a member of our family. Quiet, wanting to be left unprovoked by other furry family members, she chose Jim's lap as her place. In her way, she changed his life, allowing him to know, through her friendship, feline companionship.
Today, Patience completed her work. In Jim's lap, where she had given and received great love, Patience went ahead to bask in the warmth of the sun, where she is whole. And God, who loved her before we knew her and allowed us the gift of her unique friendship, must surely have welcomed her into his arms, saying, "Well done, good and faithful Patience."

Flying!

St. Thomas! What better way to spend a morning than para sailing!! Jim and I boarded a small boat along with about 10 others. Each pair of us climbed onto the back, where we were hooked into the support bars and straps. After a thumbs up the boat accelerated and we had lift off!
It was so lovely to be up above the blue sea with only the sound of the wind. About half way through our "flight" we were lowered for a quick dunk in the ocean, then lifted off once more for a final time before we were brought back in, landing (amazingly gently) on the back of the boat.
To Jim's and my amazement, we shared this experience with a retired nuclear submarine commander. He was very modest and had some great stories. And they DO say "Dive, dive" when the sub descends. (He corrected me when I asked if they said "dive, dive, dive" when descending; apparently the 3 dive sequence is for coming back up.) He said that in a severe sea condition the water is relatively calm below, but he was under hurricane conditions once and at 400 feet below the surface they were rocking and rolling. We had a wonderful day.

Old San Juan

We left Miami on Saturday, January 24 on a warm sunny late afternoon. Sunday was a day at sea. No ports of call, no where to go. It was the perfect way to detoxify and relax. It was hot and sunny with few clouds but a nice breeze. The hundreds of lounge chairs on the decks were occupied by 9AM and stayed that way till evening as all of us basked in sun and warmth. We sailed on through the night and into Monday. Our first port of call was in Puerto Rico (...and EVERY time I heard that name, immediately my mind took off with "...my heart's devotion. Let it sink back in the ocean!", having listened to West Side Story once or twice.) We docked at 5PM and were free to wander, with warnings to be back on board by midnight or start swimming.
Neither Jim nor I had ever visited this country set in the Caribbean Sea. We trolled around old San Juan, where the streets were still cobblestone and very hilly. It rained off and on as we walked, so we would duck in under an overhanging porch to wait out the shower. All along each street there were colorfully painted entrances to private residences, some very nice and some tattered. We walked by Castillo de San Cristóbal, a Spanish fort built by the Spaniards in the 18th century to protect against land based attacks on the city of San Juan. We were told that after dark every night, thousands of feral cats, who live in the fort, come out and sit on the rocks surrounding it. Had we not been back on the ship when we were told of this, we probably would have stayed to watch their eyes glow in the night. We popped into a small local pub for a light dinner, where the menu was in Spanish and the food was great. (No Whopper at the local Burger King for us, although I do admit to being slightly hesitant at first. I don't think the place was FDA inspected, but did turn out to be clean and was filled with both locals and tourists the whole time we were there.)
As darkness fell, we walked back to the ship for a good night's sleep and plans for adventure the next day at St. Thomas.

Jessie Day

One year ago today, Jessie came home to live at the Sheffield cottage, bringing with him his sweet and lovable personality. Jim and I have thought of him every day and still miss him very much. But we want his legacy to be a happy one and, in his memory, we hope for good things for other animals. So, we ask our friends and family to do something special today for an animal. Give your cat an extra treat, or your dog a big hug. We will be donating to the Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine, where research to prevent and cure feline infectious peritonitis is going on, funded mostly through contributions. We would be honored and grateful if any of you would want to donate any amount to a shelter, or to Cornell. Here is the link: http://www.vet.cornell.edu/fhc/oppsupp.htm

Jessie lives on in our hearts and in our memory.

Ernie the wild boy

The little piece of kitten fuzz seen last autumn in my blog has grown into a long, lean kitty. We figure that he's a teen in cat years. He doesn't roll his eyes or say things like "duh", (or at least we haven't seen him do these things...)but he is finding ways to show his age. While his cat brothers Sam and Ollie and sister Annie still like to play and wrestle with him, he has to push the envelope past when the other cat has had enough. It's not uncommon for Sam to run from the room with Ernie in hot pursuit, or to hear Annie growl with increasing volume when Ernie doesn't take her more subtle hints that he should GO AWAY. But just like any kid who is growing up, Ernie still has a little boy inside who wants his human Dad and Mom to pet and cuddle him and let him sleep on our laps. He spends every night lying all stretched out by our legs and doesn't seem to even notice when we shift position- he's like a rag doll, plopping wherever he ends up. Around 4:30 every morning he wakes up and makes an attempt to be petted, sticking his head under my hand and biting my fingers if he gets no response. Usually I can bury my hands in the blankets and he'll give up after a few minutes, going back to lie down at our feet, no doubt rolling his eyes and mumbling some teenage comments under his breath.

Leaving Miami

Just before sunset on January 24, we sailed from port in Miami. Jim and I were out on the top deck enjoying the sun and the prospect of total abandon of all responsibility for the upcoming days. The previous year had been full- weddings, birth, and deaths. Such is the circle of life for each of us. We just felt a little too much like we were running in circles- or a marathon, sometimes. I can't think of a vacation more welcomed than this one.

Birthday Celebration

For many years I have planned to celebrate my 50th birthday big. To me, a cruise is very big- all you could ask for in relaxation. So, on January 24, Jim and I flew from home for Miami, where we boarded the ship Carnival Liberty. We cast off at around 5PM, heading south to the beautiful Caribbean Sea. Upon entering out stateroom, I discovered streamers and signs shouting "Happy BD" in bright red, blue and yellow. Jim had planned this prior to our arrival. As noted in the photo, even before seeing our room, a priority for me was having one of those drinks with the little paper umbrella- synonymous for "Yeehaa- VACATION!" And so we were off for a week of R&R, reading books, visiting ports of call, and having more drinks with little paper umbrellas.

Half a Century

Fifty years ago on a cold January night at 11:30, I arrived- all 6+ pounds. And as I celebrate this day, my thoughts are these: tremendous gratitude and acceptance of mortality.
In one of my favorite books/movies, The Thorn Birds, Father Ralph quotes the bible: Man's days are like the grass; the wind blows and he is gone." In accepting that I, like everyone else, will one day be gone from this life, I am able to appreciate the days I have- today and all the years past. And in remembering, there is so much to be thankful for- so many, many gifts.
On one very memorable trip to Washington, we camped near Mt. Rainier. As I lay looking up at the millions of stars spilled across the inky darkness- more than I had ever seen before- I remember thinking :This is enough. If I have no more days, just this moment has made it worthwhile.
The path has not always been straight on my journey, yet I am grateful for the times I lost my way. What wisdom I have was most learned during those times.
And if I do live another 50 years, while I would love to see more of this earth, meet new friends, and welcome new family members, my greatest gift will continue to be my simple life, at home, with my best friend and all of the furry people who share our lives.
Thank you Jim, for everything. To Mom and Dad, Greg, Brian, Michael, Julie and Scott, my growing up family, thank you for your love and tolerance (especially Greg!). To Peter and Heidi and to Leah, my children, all my love. To Ashley, Autumn, Aaron and little Kayden, I am so thankful for you and blessed to have you. To Kurt and Leah, Beth, Billie, and SB- you are treasures and I value your wisdom and friendship so much. To Winnie, Lady, Mistie, PK, Nell (Frizzle), Shackleton, Sammy, Tabitha, Annie, Ernie, Patrick, Jeffrey, Nutmeg, Charlie and Stuart, you make my days happy. To Jessie, love forever. And most of all, thank you to the Creator and Source of all that is good and holy, for this simple life.

Gramma's Joy

Little Kayden had just had a bath and a warm bottle today and was off to sleep and grow. At 3 weeks, he changes daily. In the past week he is better able to see faces; during his bottle today he was looking at me. (I took the opportunity to tell him that this was Gramma and she is the one who will give him ANYTHING he wants!) Kayden isn't a fussy baby and even his cry is mild- not shrill like some babies. But this is not to say that he is quiet. I call him my little squeaky boy because he makes all kinds of cute noises. When I am talking to Heidi on the phone I can hear him making his little sounds, which just tickle me; if I can't see him I can at least hear him! He is filling out more- today I noticed his little wrists are rounder and I may have noticed just the beginning of a second chin. In his sleep he would randomly move his hands- such tiny, perfect little fingers. As I held him today I thought of his Gramma Tammy and how proud she would be of our little grandson.

Quiet Winter Afternoon

I am where many people in Columbus probably wish they were today: at home on the couch, looking out. It is the quintessential winter day, beautiful in its quiet white softness. Snow has been falling since early daylight, large puffs sliding down from the smokey-blue- gray sky. Everything is snow-covered. From where I sit, I can see the cap over the bird feeder with a smooth mound of about 3 inches of white. Inside, the furnace hums softly, and the cuckoo clock ticks away the afternoon. Nell on my lap, Mistie beside me, Winnie on her quilt, and Annie, Shackleton and Oliver- in descending levels on the cat tree-all nap.

When I hear or read of someone spending a whole day just being lazy, reading in their pajamas or watching movies, it sounds deliciously decadent and I think "I should try that!" However, my nature/comfortable behavior pattern is to be doing. As Jim says, we all have our demons.

Today I have been successful- maybe because this rest is an attempt to heal hip pain that started a couple of days ago and got steadily worse. So maybe, even while resting, it is for a "purpose", not just to do it...Where IS that notebook where I jot down ideas for self improvement?.......

Miss Annie

Some time in late autumn, I noticed a previously unseen cat hanging around the drive we share with our neighbors. Most of the time the cat spent time in their garage. As I left for work one morning, I noticed some of our dishes out along the drive, one with cat food and one with water...Apparently Jim had seen the cat too.
On a couple of occasions I was able to coax the kitty over, tapping the ground and calling. She would slowly and cautiously walk over and allow me to pet her but never stayed long. The only "identification" she had was a flee collar.
A week or so went by and our neighbor and I were out at the same time. She said, "Have you seen our new cat?" I said I had. She went on to say that they would provide food and shelter in their garage, but the cat would not be permitted inside. Hmmm.
One very cold, windy early November day I couldn't help but think of the little cat outside, all alone. I went over to the garage (the door is always left open) and found the cat lying on top of a mattress, the wind blowing her fur, which had become dirty. It was at that moment I decided to commit cat burglary. I coaxed her down from the mattress by offering honey ham, all the while expecting the neighbors to pull up and find me mid-theft. They did not, and I was able to bring the cat inside and down the basement, shutting the door to keep the other animals away. I quickly discovered that her flee collar was doing nothing- lots of little flees had taken up residence. I could also tell that this cat, wherever she had come from, was not an outside cat. She just didn't have the coat to withstand the winter weather. Feeling just a little guilty, I called Jim to confess my deed, knowing he would say what he did: "Good!"
I fretted about how to hide her from the neighbors, as they would see her in the window. But I also didn't know how to explain that I had stolen their cat. They returned home later that day, and I knocked on their back door. I said that I had been worried about the cat being outside and had put her in our basement...and they were thrilled! Turns out they really didn't want her to begin with. And so we headed to the vet and checked for a microchip. (I was hoping we may have found a lost friend who could be returned to her owner.) There was no chip and no postings at any of the local sites describing this little girl, who I decided should be called Annie. She is small and there was no doubt that she was a little girl, who needed a feminine name. In the last couple of months, Annie has been defloused, immunized, and spayed. In between, she has found her place at home and is a loved member at the Schneider Animal Cottage.

In Love

Hard as it is to believe, it has been 25 years since I held a newborn who was "my" baby and felt that overwhelming love for this little person. My little grandson has brought that baby love back into my life. It is a total joy to hold him against my heart and to smell his sweet baby head under my chin. When we pick him up, his little bottom sticks out as he tucks his legs under him and it is just the cutest thing ever. I love watching him drink his bottle, his small hands curled next to his face as his little cheeks work away.
Today Jim and I got to watch him while his daddy worked and Heidi got a few hours sleep, as Mr. Kayden is playing his newborn role quite well, sleeping soundly all day and reserving awake or fussy times for the night hours.
Now it is my child instead of me who walks the floor at 3AM. I have been promoted to Gramma status and I am loving every minute.