I live in a small town. It is a world famous town but small nonetheless. Actually, technically I live in the unincorporated part of this small town. This means if we have an emergency the sheriff comes instead of the local police force, we get reverse 911 call tests every six months and we get the small town's mailing address without the taxes. The whole community shares one school district and a common interest in maintaining the charm of the area. Sounds good so far right?
Our community has great beauty courtesy of Mother Nature. There are six seasons here: 1) Gorgeous fall, about 2 weeks long; 2) Mud season; 3) Winter aka ski season; 4) Mud season; 5) Spring, about 3 weeks long; and, 6) Summer aka golf season. Being a Pollyanna of sorts I always remind myself that mud season is what sustains the rest of the year. Even if The Black Dog loves to roll in the mud and bring it into the house. Especially then... But I digress.
In our town people actually go to the post office, run into each other and visit. The concept of "having a visit" was new to me having lived an urban and suburban life prior to moving here. The S.O. was used to this because he grew up in the Midwest where apparently visiting is done all the time with anyone who has the time. I have bumped into people at the store and gotten updates on my husband's workday which is funny because he works in the biggish city down the canyon. And all over the country for that matter.
It is the kind of community where the world famous restaurant owner/chef greets the locals by name and seats them right away. Those with reservations are seated next and the non-reservation self important types wait. And wait. (Hint, if you come here - make reservations or have a local do it.) And no one really cares who you are, what you did or who you know. The S.O. and I were out to dinner one night at one of the nicest restaurants in town. It is well regarded in the foodie world thanks to Bon Appetit among other things. As we waited for our table a Non Reservation Self Important Type pushed his way in. For a large party. The young hostess smiled and took down their name. He tried flashing a little cash. She smiled and let him know they would call him when the table was ready. Then he told her who he was, what he did for a living (worked for a major TV network) and her response? "What a great job, I am sure your family must be so proud of you..." And again said she'd call his name. We were seated and the hostess apologized for the guys behavior - which we told her was unnecessary. We had a visit with her and enjoyed a nice night.
People who live in our small town don't often go down the canyon to the biggish city unless it is for a specific reason or work. I think the beauty of our area, the drive (which isn't a big deal to us former LA folks) and all of the things going on up here make it hard to leave. But every now and then I get a yearning for the city. Work travel doesn't count because you really don't get the time to appreciate whichever city you are in. I had a little island fever. The S.O. was also feeling that way so down the canyon we went to the biggish city. He kept referring to it as a daytrip.
We went to a larger outdoor mall and decided to catch a movie which we did. We asked the ticket taker about the movie we picked, expecting a small visit. He told us he hadn't seen the movie, then yelled "Next" even though we were the only ones in line. We walked around and then went to dinner in a different part of town at a Brazilian grill. The S.O. has recently been waxing nostalgic about his time spent in Brazil and Argentina so this seemed like a good idea. (P.S. I think he doesn't go into details about those years due to an agreement with certain large "agencies" even though he swears he was just opening banks for a US Corp.) We were seated and our server asked where we were from. When we told her her eyes widened and she said "...wow...you came down from there???" We said yes and commented that it was only a 20 minute drive. Then she asked what brought us there and the S.O. explained that he had been craving grilled meat Brazilian style. Then they started to have a visit, half in English and half in Spanish (he doesn't speak Portuguese that well). Except that her manager noticed. And interrupted us to check on the service. And moved her along.
We had a great dinner although we noticed very little visiting going on. Even among the patrons themselves. Naturally we visited about this. That's when I realized I might actually be turning into a small town person. I like knowing the people at the grocery store and knowing what is going on with the county budget. I like running into my friend's daughter and realizing she is supposed to be in school and seeing the panicked look on her face when she realizes I am having lunch with her mom that day. I see how addictive the small town feeling is and being a private person - I am still working on "visiting".
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Hurricane Allie and Hurricane Katrina; or How We Came to be the Human Companions of The Black Dog
I have come to realize that the smallest member of our family - aka "The Pack" - really rules the roost. We'd like to think that the Significant Other ("S.O.") and I are in charge here but the facts belie this. Sure, we provide a home, food, beds, rides wherever and whenever they are needed. We shell out money to whomever needs it for things that the littlest one thinks we have to have on hand. We make sure the house is always at the appropriate temperature no matter what time of year. We watch things on tv that won't be too disturbing and put on music that is soothing and hopefully, will induce some sleep. We try to keep things on a schedule and make the household routine as predictable as possible. No, this isn't for a child but for our two dogs.
The Black Dog came into our lives a few months after The White Dog aka Genie the Wonderdog left us to go play Chase in Heaven. The Brown Dog didn't understand this and was grief stricken at the loss of his playmate. He dropped ten pounds in thirty days. (I sure could use that diet.) We started to look for another dog; visited various rescues and shelters where The Brown Dog immediately rejected all potential fur-blings. I searched the Internet and kept coming back to the same dog over and over. I wanted another lab mix which she was. I wanted a black one because of the amount of black clothes I have; leftovers from my L.A. days. And she was smiling in the adoption picture. That sealed the deal for me but I needed the S.O. to agree and The Brown One's stamp of approval. Well obviously she passed the S.O.'s requirements and The Brown Dog's sniff test, so to speak. The cats didn't get a vote but The Black Dog set about to win them over and did. So here she is.
We know everything that has happened to her since July 11th, 2007 but only bits and pieces of her life prior. Going backwards from that date we know that we were matched with her at the University of Utah where she was in a testing program for human painkillers. They identified her as potentially a great companion and trained her with the help of Intermountain Therapy Dogs. (The joke is that she has been to rehab and when she is whiny - she's got the Jones.) The U got her from a shelter in September of the prior year where she was considered to be unadoptable and had languished for a few months. Prior to that she was adopted out to a ranch and kept escaping during storms. And the rancher who didn't claim her at the shelter? He/she got her from Best Friends where The Black Dog racked up frequent flyer miles coming into Utah from Houston, Texas in October of 2005. So our sweet Allie is a Hurricane Katrina Rescue as she came here from a shelter that was holding a number of rescued dogs from Louisiana.
What we also know is that The Black Dog shakes unbelievably and digs whenever she hears sirens or wind or a combination of the two. We know that thunder makes her dig dig dig and she is inconsolable during heavy rainstorms. We also know that she knew her way around a house the minute we brought her home. She immediately settled in the kitchen in front of the stove. (Some days it seems like she has never left that spot.) She knew to go to the backdoor when she wants out and she definitely knew all about dogbeds. She has had a litter of pups and she loves children. Our vet told us she had reconstructive surgery on one of her rear legs and that she'll always have a little limp. He also told us she was a purebred English Lab to the best of his knowledge. My brother, the hunter, saw that she points and does other things important to hunters. The Black Dog adores The Brown Dog, loves body hugs and is an early riser. If we were to write a bio about her on an Internet Dating Site she'd be married by now, she is that lovable. (Despite what the S.O. says.)
With all of this The Black Dog has us fulfilling her every need at all hours of the day. As I finish writing this she is laying on my legs, on the couch watching Marley and Me with the S.O. We, oops he, turns the volume down during the loudest barking scenes otherwise she gets too wound up and barks at The Brown Dog. She wakes us up at 5:30 am on the dot for fear she'll die from hunger while we sleep. She sniffs the grocery bags when I come home, looking hopefully for new bones and peanut butter. And she starts the Happy Hour Dance at 5 pm on the dot because obviously Happy Hour is when dogs get fed so they don't starve overnight. The S.O. seems to think Happy Hour is a whole other event that takes place after work on Fridays, sometimes at The Jeremy Club.
We searched the various Katrina websites for her original human companions as did the shelter in Houston, Best Friends and the U. We just couldn't imagine separating this gorgeous girl from her first family. Every year around the anniversary of the Hurricane I take a little time to think about those people and pray for them. I hope they are well and thriving like this beautiful girl who has been such a blessing to us.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Star Light, Star Bright...
The other night I did the unthinkable in my house. I actually got up in the middle of the night to let The Brown Dog out. The Brown Dog is getting older and like the other man in the house - needs a trip to the restroom during the night.
This usually brings on a battle of wills between the Significant Other and me. Unspoken of course unless the S.O. is really irritated. The word is out; I am not the heavy sleeper that the S.O. thinks I am. You see, as soon as I detect the Brown Head resting gently on my side of the bed I let out a little heavy breath or gentle snore. I can't figure out how the Brown Eyes staring at me make so much noise, they are the loudest thing ever and yes, they wake me up. But I feign deep sleep. Then The Brown Dog sort of rubs against my side of the bed. So I roll over and throw in another snore. The Brown Dog tries a few more things while I sort of flail out my arms and throw it into high gear; faking that I am in the deepest of sleeps. That is when The Black Dog gets in on the action. She simply goes to the S.O.'s side of the bed and barks at him. At that point he gets up and once he is on his feet I mumble - "I'll get it". He barks "I am UP!" at me and lets them out. It's all what make my life a charmed life right?
We used to have two cats who were part of the package when we married. In the S.O.'s earlier life his daughters were concerned that he would be lonely as a single guy. Obviously they hadn't watched Oprah's stories about divorced successful men and their eligibility. They talked him into getting a cat. Actually, the single cute woman at a pet adoption event talked him into allowing two cats to adopt him. So the cats won, she won and he lost. Though ultimately this made him the winner because of me. But that is a whole other blog. At any rate, the cats became my co-conspirators in this faking sleep thing.
One or the other of them would sleep on my feet or at my side. They would get on the bed during the night and snuggle in. The real reason they did this was so they could rule the dogs. So when The Brown Dog would start his "I need to go out routine" the cat of the evening would take a swipe at him; thus accelerating The Black Dog's barking and waking up the S.O. In the interest of full disclosure I have to admit, I still "slept" through this. In those instances the S.O.'s response when I would mumble that I'd get up was always "I am UP and how can you sleep through this?" Some nights I would tell him I heard barking and thought I was dreaming. Some mornings I'd say "I dreamt I was volunteering at a shelter last night, did I kick much in my sleep?" ...After posting this you'll find me in the confessional at St. Mary's...
Well, here we are a few years later and catless. The White Cat (most recently) and The Black Cat are at the Great Cattery in the Sky. Now I've lost my partners in crime and feline force field. It's all back on me again. Plus the dogs are older and more insistent about the night-time backyard visits. So the other night when The Brown Dog started his routine I thought "I can do this. Let the S.O. sleep and I'll be the good wife and let the beast out."
I got up, The Black Dog eyed me warily and moved in case I tripped over her. I went to the backdoor and let The Brown One out. My mistake was that I looked up. What a gorgeous night! Who knew? The stars were so bright and intense it seemed like I could just touch them. And the Milky Way? It cut a beautiful path across the sky. I was awed and enthralled. I sat outside and took it all in. The Brown Dog sniffed around, did his thing and patrolled the yard. It was so peaceful and inspiring.
It started to get a little cold so the dog and I went inside. I immediately woke the S.O. up to see the Milky Way and he wasn't as awed or inspired as I was. In fact - he never went outside. He watched an old movie in our den after it became apparent he was wide awake. The dogs and I slept peacefully. I am pretty sure they were dreaming of the cats playing among the stars. The next morning I mentioned to the S.O. how much I enjoyed the nighttime sky and that I'd be happy to get up with the dogs from now on. His response? "I think I'll just let the dogs out at night. You need your sleep..."
And they say reverse psychology doesn't work...
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Ode to Genie the Wonderdog.
One of my favorite books is called A Dog Year by Jon Katz. It was also made into a movie on HBO but personally I think the book is much better. I read the book at the recommendation of my vet in West Los Angeles over ten years ago. I just loved this book because it was so similar to the story of my dog Genie and me. It was a story of love at first sight.
When she picked me out she was a 10 week old puppy; half Yellow Lab Half Australian Shepherd. It was at my niece's soccer game in Escondido. A lady was selling puppies for ten dollars. I had just given my younger niece a dollar so I only had nine. That is how I got the nine dollar dog. She was so sweet while outsmarting me and everyone else. I was living in an apartment in Brentwood, California at the time. Urban West Los Angeles. Not the best for a dog that thrived on herding and hunting. That first year was a battle of wills. She could open doors, boxes, refrigerators, trash cans, sliding doors and an armoir door. I still don't understand that one.
We walked and walked. She chased anything on wheels and runners with poor form. She was always on leash but still managed to give a little chase even if I was paying attention at the time. She was very particular. She hid her toys and bones all over my apartment and then spent time finding them or would pull them out as if to show me she had a stash. I had hardwood floors. I would wake up at 3 am to the sound of her throwing a tennis ball up in the air; it would bounce down the hall three or four times - then run to get it. Because she needed so much exercise we discovered a park that had 4 baseball fields. She ran and ran. She ran with bicyclists although they were on the other side of the fences which worked out well for everyone. She loved to dance in the water shot off by the sprinklers for the baseball fields.
She was graceful and athletic although not everyone saw that in her. They saw a crazy dog. After I couldn't recall her one day when she chased a runner my vet recommended the Trainer to the Stars and this book - A Dog Year. The Trainer was great. Thanks to him we all survived. He taught me how to walk her, to anticipate her, he showed me her instincts and gave me advice on how to corral those. He taught me that she had to work for literally everything. She was much happier after this as was I. I got in much better physical shape. I saw nature in Brentwood and Santa Monica that I am sure most people have never noticed. We would go to a dog park in Santa Monica at 5:30 am every day. It was by a rec center that opened at 6 for free coffee and showers for the homeless people. Genie and I got to know many of them. My friends were taken aback when we would go to the local grocery store and the guy panhandling out front would greet me and ask where Genie was.
I met Rosie Grier because of her. He called her Birddog Genie; he would honk at us from his maroon Cadillac Escalade if he saw us walking on San Vicente or Barrington. After awhile I met someone - the Significant Other. We got engaged, married and moved to the suburbs. We had a big backyard (by L.A. standards) with fruit trees, birds and squirrels. The S.O. came with two cats. We all settled in together.
The Trainer to the Stars had recommended that down the road I consider getting another dog as Genie needed a pack. The time was right; we went to shelters on weekends and took her with us to pick this new addition. In Glendale we found The Brown Dog. He was a 90 lb. junkyard dog; big body pillow. He was just one year old. The S.O. was traveling so I took him home. The dogs did well that first day although Genie kept disappearing to the back yard and coming in with dirt on her. She was hiding all of her toys and bones in the backyard by burying them. I had to leave for a few hours so I caged The Brown Dog. He seemed fine. I got home and both dogs greeted me at the door. This went on for a couple of days until I gave up. I still can't figure out how she unlocked a cage that had two sliding/reversing mechanisms.
She barked frantically at anyone that came within 4 feet of our front door. But if they came through it they were fine. She scared people who didn't know her; those that did - loved her. After another year we moved to Utah. The first year we were here our backyard wasn't fenced so we walked and hiked with the dogs. Always on leash. Genie would still stash her things through out the house and pull them out when she needed them. Part of her nightly routine was to hide her things so The Brown Dog couldn't get them. If someone came to the house that she decided she liked she would go find one of her stashed items and bring it to them as a gift.
Her herding and hunting instincts remained so strong. She also was so protective of our pack. One morning at about 5 we woke up to her gutteral low growling. The S.O. got up to look outside; she wedged herself between him and the window and used her head to herd him away from the window. The cats got curious; she herded them and The Brown Dog away too. I went into another room and saw that we had a moose in our backyard. She didn't let anyone near the rear of the house until he left; about six weeks later. She did the same one day when we had a snake. The S.O. was out of town on business, she blocked our rear step to the backyard and wouldn't move. Then I realized that the stick on the rocks was moving, fast and away from our house.
So the housecleaners would come we took the dogs to dog day care once a week. They were always happy and exhausted when I picked them up. One day I got there and Genie was in the office area with R the owner. R was cracking up. She would leave Genie in the far back yard most of the day to hunt and sunbathe; then she'd cycle other dogs in and out with Genie for exercise. One day she left Genie out back with a door sized gate to the building closed; then the dogs were in gated areas off of a gated central area. R was doing some paperwork and realized it was too quiet. Genie had let 8 other dogs out to the backyard; except The Brown Dog who was whining away. They changed their gating since then by moving the closing mechanisms from 4-4 1/2 feet to 6 feet high and use leashes to further secure the gates.
She did bite someone once. The S.O. was walking both dogs (on leash as always) when a neighbor's offleash dog got entangled with ours. We didn't know this neighbor. He reached into the dogs and started kicking and punching our dogs to get his out of the middle. Both of our dogs had defensive bruising along their bodies. The Brown Dog got kicked in the head and ended up with a cut eye and bruised cheek/jaw in addition to cracked ribs. Genie was limping; it turned out she was kicked so hard repeatedly in the leg that her knee was completed torn out. She ended up having surgery and was able to recuperate over time. The neighbor was bitten and we called the sheriff because some punches got thrown. The sheriff attributed the bite to Genie's being protective of The S.O. and The Brown Dog. It was awful. The S.O. still doesn't know why he didn't just drop our dogs leashes so they could run free instead of being vulnerable the way they were. By the way, his dog was fine.
Well, the sad news is that shortly after she recovered from her surgery she started having problems with her neck. We found out that she had a tumor in her neck that was penetrating the spine. The vet gave her a couple of days; we ended up with three good weeks. She was puppylike and loving; waking me up with a wet nose every morning. She had one bad day and that was the day we had to put her to sleep. We have a great vet - Dr. L. who put a blanket outside on the grass overlooking the mountain tops. She laid down, put her head in my lap; licked my hand and was gone. This dog was so special to me; she was sensitive to my moods, could make me laugh and cry, she really enjoyed life. She smiled.
Since her passing The Brown Dog grieved as much as we did if not more. The two dogs were very attached; him more than her. Every now and then he'll sniff something under a couch or bed or hidden in the retaining wall in the backyard and pull out one of her toys or bones. It's like she left them there for him.
The Brown Dog is a great dog and very different from her. He is snoozing at my side as I write this as is The Black Dog (who is a whole other blog). Everyone who has read A Dog Year and knew Genie says that the dog Devon/Orson was her. She was definitely a once in a lifetime dog and as I look at our other once in a lifetime dogs I am so happy to have had the pleasure of her company. Genie would've been eleven this week (I can never figure out the dog years) and is probably enjoying chasing bicyclists, herding cats and playing fetch among the stars.
When she picked me out she was a 10 week old puppy; half Yellow Lab Half Australian Shepherd. It was at my niece's soccer game in Escondido. A lady was selling puppies for ten dollars. I had just given my younger niece a dollar so I only had nine. That is how I got the nine dollar dog. She was so sweet while outsmarting me and everyone else. I was living in an apartment in Brentwood, California at the time. Urban West Los Angeles. Not the best for a dog that thrived on herding and hunting. That first year was a battle of wills. She could open doors, boxes, refrigerators, trash cans, sliding doors and an armoir door. I still don't understand that one.
We walked and walked. She chased anything on wheels and runners with poor form. She was always on leash but still managed to give a little chase even if I was paying attention at the time. She was very particular. She hid her toys and bones all over my apartment and then spent time finding them or would pull them out as if to show me she had a stash. I had hardwood floors. I would wake up at 3 am to the sound of her throwing a tennis ball up in the air; it would bounce down the hall three or four times - then run to get it. Because she needed so much exercise we discovered a park that had 4 baseball fields. She ran and ran. She ran with bicyclists although they were on the other side of the fences which worked out well for everyone. She loved to dance in the water shot off by the sprinklers for the baseball fields.
She was graceful and athletic although not everyone saw that in her. They saw a crazy dog. After I couldn't recall her one day when she chased a runner my vet recommended the Trainer to the Stars and this book - A Dog Year. The Trainer was great. Thanks to him we all survived. He taught me how to walk her, to anticipate her, he showed me her instincts and gave me advice on how to corral those. He taught me that she had to work for literally everything. She was much happier after this as was I. I got in much better physical shape. I saw nature in Brentwood and Santa Monica that I am sure most people have never noticed. We would go to a dog park in Santa Monica at 5:30 am every day. It was by a rec center that opened at 6 for free coffee and showers for the homeless people. Genie and I got to know many of them. My friends were taken aback when we would go to the local grocery store and the guy panhandling out front would greet me and ask where Genie was.
I met Rosie Grier because of her. He called her Birddog Genie; he would honk at us from his maroon Cadillac Escalade if he saw us walking on San Vicente or Barrington. After awhile I met someone - the Significant Other. We got engaged, married and moved to the suburbs. We had a big backyard (by L.A. standards) with fruit trees, birds and squirrels. The S.O. came with two cats. We all settled in together.
The Trainer to the Stars had recommended that down the road I consider getting another dog as Genie needed a pack. The time was right; we went to shelters on weekends and took her with us to pick this new addition. In Glendale we found The Brown Dog. He was a 90 lb. junkyard dog; big body pillow. He was just one year old. The S.O. was traveling so I took him home. The dogs did well that first day although Genie kept disappearing to the back yard and coming in with dirt on her. She was hiding all of her toys and bones in the backyard by burying them. I had to leave for a few hours so I caged The Brown Dog. He seemed fine. I got home and both dogs greeted me at the door. This went on for a couple of days until I gave up. I still can't figure out how she unlocked a cage that had two sliding/reversing mechanisms.
She barked frantically at anyone that came within 4 feet of our front door. But if they came through it they were fine. She scared people who didn't know her; those that did - loved her. After another year we moved to Utah. The first year we were here our backyard wasn't fenced so we walked and hiked with the dogs. Always on leash. Genie would still stash her things through out the house and pull them out when she needed them. Part of her nightly routine was to hide her things so The Brown Dog couldn't get them. If someone came to the house that she decided she liked she would go find one of her stashed items and bring it to them as a gift.
Her herding and hunting instincts remained so strong. She also was so protective of our pack. One morning at about 5 we woke up to her gutteral low growling. The S.O. got up to look outside; she wedged herself between him and the window and used her head to herd him away from the window. The cats got curious; she herded them and The Brown Dog away too. I went into another room and saw that we had a moose in our backyard. She didn't let anyone near the rear of the house until he left; about six weeks later. She did the same one day when we had a snake. The S.O. was out of town on business, she blocked our rear step to the backyard and wouldn't move. Then I realized that the stick on the rocks was moving, fast and away from our house.
So the housecleaners would come we took the dogs to dog day care once a week. They were always happy and exhausted when I picked them up. One day I got there and Genie was in the office area with R the owner. R was cracking up. She would leave Genie in the far back yard most of the day to hunt and sunbathe; then she'd cycle other dogs in and out with Genie for exercise. One day she left Genie out back with a door sized gate to the building closed; then the dogs were in gated areas off of a gated central area. R was doing some paperwork and realized it was too quiet. Genie had let 8 other dogs out to the backyard; except The Brown Dog who was whining away. They changed their gating since then by moving the closing mechanisms from 4-4 1/2 feet to 6 feet high and use leashes to further secure the gates.
She did bite someone once. The S.O. was walking both dogs (on leash as always) when a neighbor's offleash dog got entangled with ours. We didn't know this neighbor. He reached into the dogs and started kicking and punching our dogs to get his out of the middle. Both of our dogs had defensive bruising along their bodies. The Brown Dog got kicked in the head and ended up with a cut eye and bruised cheek/jaw in addition to cracked ribs. Genie was limping; it turned out she was kicked so hard repeatedly in the leg that her knee was completed torn out. She ended up having surgery and was able to recuperate over time. The neighbor was bitten and we called the sheriff because some punches got thrown. The sheriff attributed the bite to Genie's being protective of The S.O. and The Brown Dog. It was awful. The S.O. still doesn't know why he didn't just drop our dogs leashes so they could run free instead of being vulnerable the way they were. By the way, his dog was fine.
Well, the sad news is that shortly after she recovered from her surgery she started having problems with her neck. We found out that she had a tumor in her neck that was penetrating the spine. The vet gave her a couple of days; we ended up with three good weeks. She was puppylike and loving; waking me up with a wet nose every morning. She had one bad day and that was the day we had to put her to sleep. We have a great vet - Dr. L. who put a blanket outside on the grass overlooking the mountain tops. She laid down, put her head in my lap; licked my hand and was gone. This dog was so special to me; she was sensitive to my moods, could make me laugh and cry, she really enjoyed life. She smiled.
Since her passing The Brown Dog grieved as much as we did if not more. The two dogs were very attached; him more than her. Every now and then he'll sniff something under a couch or bed or hidden in the retaining wall in the backyard and pull out one of her toys or bones. It's like she left them there for him.
The Brown Dog is a great dog and very different from her. He is snoozing at my side as I write this as is The Black Dog (who is a whole other blog). Everyone who has read A Dog Year and knew Genie says that the dog Devon/Orson was her. She was definitely a once in a lifetime dog and as I look at our other once in a lifetime dogs I am so happy to have had the pleasure of her company. Genie would've been eleven this week (I can never figure out the dog years) and is probably enjoying chasing bicyclists, herding cats and playing fetch among the stars.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
My Mom and My Journey - Thanks to Her
As the only daughter in a family of six kids I had many roles assigned to me. I was a princess who danced on her father's feet and was taken to fundraising fashion shows by her mother. I played point guard in basketball and short fielder in softball for the brothers. I was also assigned the role of a defender in an ongoing in-house soccer shootout (sorry Mom) that took place in various family rooms and homes all over the country. And finally, co-conspirator and house cleaner after food fights. I never took out the garbage until I went to college and my husband still points to my deficiencies in this area.
My mother is an Irish American Princess which meant as a child I never learned how to sew. I picked up my cooking skills courtesy of our Italian neighbors, friends' mothers and now, girlfriends or the Food Network. (Who knew that as an adult I would love to cook as a form of relaxation?) Mom was just too busy playing referee, driver, AF wife and bridge. There wasn't a lot of discussion about what I would do or be when I grew up but whatever it was, I was expected to do well.
Mom worked for GE in the "business systems area" right after she graduated from college with a degree in Applied Mathematics. She was there for two years, waiting for Dad to graduate from Annapolis and planning their wedding for that same summer. Naturally she expected that I would follow her path and timeline. She put her career on hold and didn't work again for several years at which time she worked preparing taxes and in accounting, part-time. (She continues to do so to this day.) So when I started working in commercial finance and shocked everyone with my career aspirations she was encouraging but this wasn't exactly in her plans for me. What she realizes now is she and Dad created choices for me which weren't available to her for the most part.
The other night I went to a Girls Night Out to watch our local Triple A baseball team play. We had a box, courtesy of a work friend's law firm. She also invited other attorneys and local businesswomen for a night of networking and chitchat. I have to admit, I had to motivate myself to get there. It had been a long day on top of what was shaping up to be a long week. And I only knew two of the attendees and wasn't in a schmoozy mood.
When I got there I was greeted by the cutest 6 year old. My friend S was there and asked our hostess if she could bring her daughter. The little one is the oldest of 3 and has 2 younger brothers. Her mom has been working late on a case most nights and hadn't been home to tuck in her children before they went to bed. I asked her daughter if she was excited to watch the baseball game and her response? "...I am excited for time away from those boys!!!" She just killed me. I told her I grew up with brothers too and I know how sometimes a girl just needs to be a girl. We talked about whether or not to play sports, if she would be a lawyer like her mom, why couldn't she play professional baseball like the guys we were watching and what color of cotton candy would be good to eat.
The other guests arrived and the discussion was minimal around work; The talk was focused on vacations, family and managing our time. We talked about what we all do to relax. This group of women, despite common careers - had very different upbringings and family lives. Some were married with children, others never married or were divorced. I learned so much that night that I would never normally know about these women. It was a night of sharing our personal lives and dreams.
One attorney lives by herself on a ranch purchased post-divorce and according to her it was "Eat, Pray, Love" without the travel or men. Eat whatever she has on hand or starve. Pray that she can learn how to repair fences and bail hay or hire the right help. Love her neighbors who help out with everything as she learns the ropes. Another spends her vacations with her family touring minor league ballparks all over the US (I don't get it.) S and her family camp whenever they can. Our hostess takes trips that are spontaneous; usually going solo because she is the easiest person she knows to travel with. One lady is training for RagBrie, a bike race across Iowa. Who knew?
What was intriguing to me that night was the choices they all made in their lives and continue to make. The doors that were opened to them and the doors they are opening for their children. I look at Mom and her friends and wonder what they would have done with their lives in this age. They could have raised families or pursued careers or both. They might have taken a journey like that of the movie Eat, Pray, Love or maybe they would have created their own version of that journey like my attorney oops - rancher - friend. Me? I have been able to pursue a career, learn how to cook, marry a great guy who luckily for me takes out the trash and travel quite a bit. So maybe it was good for me that growing up there wasn't a lot of talk about what I would do or be when I grew up. What I thought was a lack of interest was probably the most interesting thing Mom did for me. So now I am able to eat, pray and love - thanks to the life she encouraged me to live.
My mother is an Irish American Princess which meant as a child I never learned how to sew. I picked up my cooking skills courtesy of our Italian neighbors, friends' mothers and now, girlfriends or the Food Network. (Who knew that as an adult I would love to cook as a form of relaxation?) Mom was just too busy playing referee, driver, AF wife and bridge. There wasn't a lot of discussion about what I would do or be when I grew up but whatever it was, I was expected to do well.
Mom worked for GE in the "business systems area" right after she graduated from college with a degree in Applied Mathematics. She was there for two years, waiting for Dad to graduate from Annapolis and planning their wedding for that same summer. Naturally she expected that I would follow her path and timeline. She put her career on hold and didn't work again for several years at which time she worked preparing taxes and in accounting, part-time. (She continues to do so to this day.) So when I started working in commercial finance and shocked everyone with my career aspirations she was encouraging but this wasn't exactly in her plans for me. What she realizes now is she and Dad created choices for me which weren't available to her for the most part.
The other night I went to a Girls Night Out to watch our local Triple A baseball team play. We had a box, courtesy of a work friend's law firm. She also invited other attorneys and local businesswomen for a night of networking and chitchat. I have to admit, I had to motivate myself to get there. It had been a long day on top of what was shaping up to be a long week. And I only knew two of the attendees and wasn't in a schmoozy mood.
When I got there I was greeted by the cutest 6 year old. My friend S was there and asked our hostess if she could bring her daughter. The little one is the oldest of 3 and has 2 younger brothers. Her mom has been working late on a case most nights and hadn't been home to tuck in her children before they went to bed. I asked her daughter if she was excited to watch the baseball game and her response? "...I am excited for time away from those boys!!!" She just killed me. I told her I grew up with brothers too and I know how sometimes a girl just needs to be a girl. We talked about whether or not to play sports, if she would be a lawyer like her mom, why couldn't she play professional baseball like the guys we were watching and what color of cotton candy would be good to eat.
The other guests arrived and the discussion was minimal around work; The talk was focused on vacations, family and managing our time. We talked about what we all do to relax. This group of women, despite common careers - had very different upbringings and family lives. Some were married with children, others never married or were divorced. I learned so much that night that I would never normally know about these women. It was a night of sharing our personal lives and dreams.
One attorney lives by herself on a ranch purchased post-divorce and according to her it was "Eat, Pray, Love" without the travel or men. Eat whatever she has on hand or starve. Pray that she can learn how to repair fences and bail hay or hire the right help. Love her neighbors who help out with everything as she learns the ropes. Another spends her vacations with her family touring minor league ballparks all over the US (I don't get it.) S and her family camp whenever they can. Our hostess takes trips that are spontaneous; usually going solo because she is the easiest person she knows to travel with. One lady is training for RagBrie, a bike race across Iowa. Who knew?
What was intriguing to me that night was the choices they all made in their lives and continue to make. The doors that were opened to them and the doors they are opening for their children. I look at Mom and her friends and wonder what they would have done with their lives in this age. They could have raised families or pursued careers or both. They might have taken a journey like that of the movie Eat, Pray, Love or maybe they would have created their own version of that journey like my attorney oops - rancher - friend. Me? I have been able to pursue a career, learn how to cook, marry a great guy who luckily for me takes out the trash and travel quite a bit. So maybe it was good for me that growing up there wasn't a lot of talk about what I would do or be when I grew up. What I thought was a lack of interest was probably the most interesting thing Mom did for me. So now I am able to eat, pray and love - thanks to the life she encouraged me to live.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Class Reunions and a Girl who is still out there.
This weekend I am missing two class reunions. Both are on the same night on opposite coasts of the country. I am reluctant to share the number of years since graduation but if you are on FB you already know; it is greater than 29 and less than 31... Many of my former classmates are gearing up for the festivities and have been looking forward to them for months. The FB activity between everyone is increasing and new family pictures are being posted for sharing prior to the big weekend.
What have the last thirty years held for everyone? Sadly, we have lost some folks along the way and they will be missed; their absences noted. There have been marriages and unions, careers and children, moves and adventures. Will people share the challenges they have faced and the daily routine of their lives? Will the various cliques still stay together or will people have found other common areas that break down some of the social barriers that were in place so long ago?
My memories of high school involve meeting the other new kids at orientations for transfer students, a lot of swimming, dances, laughs and tears. The primary groups I hung out with on either coast were different from one another in a lot of ways and very similar in other ways. I like to think of myself as the "funny one" in both groups. The Marylanders were focused on academics and sports. The Californians were also academically oriented but very social too. We all supported each other and started to learn how to navigate the world together.
The classmates that I was close to and am still in touch with have gone through so much and in my view, have really risen to life's challenges. Life's tests included the cancer of a spouse, financial uncertainty, the loss of family members, divorce and unemployment. When we correspond their voices are still intact and unchanged. They share their pride in their families and their ongoing focus on a bright future. Touching base is comforting and provides laughs too. We appreciate the time we take to touch base and the encouragement or humor that we still share. Getting to know each other again brings us back to our roots.
I am sad to miss the reunions this weekend. The husband and I have other commitments and couldn't make the trip to either coast. I am going to miss the reminiscing and hugs, the music, reconnecting with folks and learning what their new view of the world is. The Significant Other would learn things about me that I have forgotten or conveniently "edited". He would've met a girl who loved to play the occasional prank joke or to Toilet Paper the house of an unsuspecting victim (hello Holy Rollers!). He would've heard about a competitor underneath a soft veneer whose biggest rival was herself in the pool. He would've learned about teachers who impacted me and probably didn't even know it (Dr. Volk, Mr. Butler, Ms. Ricalzone and Lombardi.) For me, I hope my classmates will miss the optimistic girl that loved to laugh and skip, swim her heart out and learn about life. And I hope they know she is still out there....
What have the last thirty years held for everyone? Sadly, we have lost some folks along the way and they will be missed; their absences noted. There have been marriages and unions, careers and children, moves and adventures. Will people share the challenges they have faced and the daily routine of their lives? Will the various cliques still stay together or will people have found other common areas that break down some of the social barriers that were in place so long ago?
My memories of high school involve meeting the other new kids at orientations for transfer students, a lot of swimming, dances, laughs and tears. The primary groups I hung out with on either coast were different from one another in a lot of ways and very similar in other ways. I like to think of myself as the "funny one" in both groups. The Marylanders were focused on academics and sports. The Californians were also academically oriented but very social too. We all supported each other and started to learn how to navigate the world together.
The classmates that I was close to and am still in touch with have gone through so much and in my view, have really risen to life's challenges. Life's tests included the cancer of a spouse, financial uncertainty, the loss of family members, divorce and unemployment. When we correspond their voices are still intact and unchanged. They share their pride in their families and their ongoing focus on a bright future. Touching base is comforting and provides laughs too. We appreciate the time we take to touch base and the encouragement or humor that we still share. Getting to know each other again brings us back to our roots.
I am sad to miss the reunions this weekend. The husband and I have other commitments and couldn't make the trip to either coast. I am going to miss the reminiscing and hugs, the music, reconnecting with folks and learning what their new view of the world is. The Significant Other would learn things about me that I have forgotten or conveniently "edited". He would've met a girl who loved to play the occasional prank joke or to Toilet Paper the house of an unsuspecting victim (hello Holy Rollers!). He would've heard about a competitor underneath a soft veneer whose biggest rival was herself in the pool. He would've learned about teachers who impacted me and probably didn't even know it (Dr. Volk, Mr. Butler, Ms. Ricalzone and Lombardi.) For me, I hope my classmates will miss the optimistic girl that loved to laugh and skip, swim her heart out and learn about life. And I hope they know she is still out there....
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Dancing in the Rain...
I love storms. I always have. The wind, thunder and lightning; the beat of rain against anything in its path; the smell of wet pavement or dirt. For me, stormy weather brings a feeling of being safe and of course; being cozy at home. I love seeing nature's fury and being reminded that I am only a small and temporary piece of this life.
I think this started with my early years in Ohio. One of my earliest memories is of my mother tucking my younger brother and I under Dad's workbench in the basement during a series of tornadoes. My older brothers were at school that day. The tornadoes passed; cutting a path between our neighborhood and the boys' school. I remember uprooted trees, branches everywhere and Mom's anxiety until they got home safely.
I went to college at one of the rainiest places in the Continental U.S. and never owned a raincoat or umbrella. This was a source of pride for my group of friends as we all took the same stance on the weather. Of course I didn't wear much makeup then or spend much time on my hair either. Then in my corporate life I used to travel to the Midwest frequently for work and had many turbulent flights back to Los Angeles. One was more memorable than others. It was a nighttime flight where the pilot took us up to 46,000 feet, just above the storms. You could watch the lightning glow, then flash and flatten as it reached the top of the clouds. When I shared this with one of my brothers who used to be a pilot he said those scenes were one of the benefits of the job no one told you about.
Now we live in a mountain community and we have experienced snow storms that include thunder and lightning. We get summer storms with amazing lightning and thunder that rattles our neighborhood. And we get the occasional lightning strike on the ridge above our house. The Significant Other tends to sleep or hunker down; our dogs get a little crazed and destroy books. (Note - we have a Katrina rescue dog...) I usually sit in our living room, turn off the lights unless Mother Nature already has and just take it all in.
You see, lately I haven't been appreciating the storms as much. I realized this the other day when I had to go through a gentle rain to get to my car in a far corner of a parking lot from the door I was in. I started out in a rush and then slowed down. I remembered a physics professor saying it didn't matter if you ran or walked, you would still get just as wet. Yes, I actually paid attention in college physics... Then I got home and looked out to our backyard and saw plants blooming and things growing that I never seen before; courtesy of our storms. These storms bring out the strangest and most wonderful things and moments. Last night we went to an outdoor concert and dinner. At the end of the concert it started to rain and the SO surprised me. People were running to their cars, but not us. As I started to pack up he decided that was the time for us to dance. Of course, being a former Deadhead he was used to dancing in the rain and being a former Lumberjack I was happy to do so... I love storms.
I think this started with my early years in Ohio. One of my earliest memories is of my mother tucking my younger brother and I under Dad's workbench in the basement during a series of tornadoes. My older brothers were at school that day. The tornadoes passed; cutting a path between our neighborhood and the boys' school. I remember uprooted trees, branches everywhere and Mom's anxiety until they got home safely.
I went to college at one of the rainiest places in the Continental U.S. and never owned a raincoat or umbrella. This was a source of pride for my group of friends as we all took the same stance on the weather. Of course I didn't wear much makeup then or spend much time on my hair either. Then in my corporate life I used to travel to the Midwest frequently for work and had many turbulent flights back to Los Angeles. One was more memorable than others. It was a nighttime flight where the pilot took us up to 46,000 feet, just above the storms. You could watch the lightning glow, then flash and flatten as it reached the top of the clouds. When I shared this with one of my brothers who used to be a pilot he said those scenes were one of the benefits of the job no one told you about.
Now we live in a mountain community and we have experienced snow storms that include thunder and lightning. We get summer storms with amazing lightning and thunder that rattles our neighborhood. And we get the occasional lightning strike on the ridge above our house. The Significant Other tends to sleep or hunker down; our dogs get a little crazed and destroy books. (Note - we have a Katrina rescue dog...) I usually sit in our living room, turn off the lights unless Mother Nature already has and just take it all in.
You see, lately I haven't been appreciating the storms as much. I realized this the other day when I had to go through a gentle rain to get to my car in a far corner of a parking lot from the door I was in. I started out in a rush and then slowed down. I remembered a physics professor saying it didn't matter if you ran or walked, you would still get just as wet. Yes, I actually paid attention in college physics... Then I got home and looked out to our backyard and saw plants blooming and things growing that I never seen before; courtesy of our storms. These storms bring out the strangest and most wonderful things and moments. Last night we went to an outdoor concert and dinner. At the end of the concert it started to rain and the SO surprised me. People were running to their cars, but not us. As I started to pack up he decided that was the time for us to dance. Of course, being a former Deadhead he was used to dancing in the rain and being a former Lumberjack I was happy to do so... I love storms.
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