Miss You All

Happy Thanksgiving to our family in Michigan.

The turkey's in the oven,

a lovely smelling home,

but at these special holidays

we tend to feel alone.

It doesn't feel too different

as we go about our day

missing out on all of you

on this holiday.

See you soon at Christmas time!

Plug

Calling all Christmas shoppers. Do you have that someone that you need a gift for yet don't know what to get? Do you need something to freshen up your home for holiday festivities? I thought so. Well...it just so happens that Greta's dance class is selling Partylite candles to raise money to supplement their costume fee for the Spring Recital. Please click here to view the brochure. If you are interested, let me know!!! I have to turn it in by Dec. 7th.

PS No, this is not the costume.

OH the HORror

In case you didn't know...

In case you haven't heard...

In case the incessant whining has not yet reached your corner of the earth...

the world is coming to an end.

Why?

Because SOMEone has a stuffy nose. And she doesn't like it.

It all began with Clara starting some sort of nasal discomfort down South here. Friday she came down with what has amounted to a light cold. I am of course glad it is nothing more, she had a low grade fever Friday night, but all is fine now. Drippy, but fine. Sunday afternoon, after playing at a gymnastics gym for a birthday party, Greta succumbed to the same fate. We were gently awakened this morning by a strange sound that turned out to be Greta attempting to breathe through her pathetically clogged nostrils. (Did I mention it was 4:30 and she was on our floor?) As we dragged her into bed with reassurance and pleadings for quiet, she was quick to tell us how unhappy she was because she couldn't suck her thumb with a 'snuffy' nose. However, being the persistent young lady that she is, somehow seemed to have found a way.

While I am fairly certain Greta is feeling definitely less than fine, we have been reminded no less than a dozen time since she came home today (nearly 4 hours ago today) that she hates having a stuffy nose and when is it going to go away! And so, I sit here, with bedtime on the horizon hoping that the snuffiness finishes soon, because goodness knows there are thumbs that need sucking.

And, sleep to be finished until after 4:30 in the morning.

Way to GO!

A beautiful fall morning and Chris hit the streets again this year for his half marathon. With less training time than last year, he shaved 2 minutes off of his time! We are so proud of him! The girls and I enjoyed warmer temperatures -- about 25 degrees warmer than last year's unseasonable chill -- as we watched Daddy head off, and then returned to watch him cross the finish line. Chris battled the hilly course and was in the top third of the finishers. HOORAY!

Test

Testing something....

Laying it Out There

Maya Angelou has said:
"You can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things:
a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas lights."

Just for the record: I absolutely LOVE rainy days.

I have never lost luggage, but would probably be fuming about the money

I would have to spend replacing all of that stuff.

I now have a tree that is pre-lit. That should say it all.

(But I will add that before the pre-lit tree I would spend VERY little time untangling lights. They would go in the trash. Even my frugalness couldn't wrestle with such a monstrosity. Although I must say I got quite adept at wrapping them carefully for storage each year.)

What does this say about me? I'm gloomy? Sure, goodness knows I've never been described as "perky". I have little patience -- yes, especially when something is someone else's responsibility. And 3, I have little patience. I don't solve problems well. Unless they are someone else's. I will take the time to help you. But don't bring me your Christmas lights. I'll just go buy you new ones. (And not those fancy LED ones, so don't get any funny thoughts.)

Willy Wonka it's not

In mid stream of battling with creating and uploading a new header, I felt the need to raid the Halloween candy. Something I never do, which has always resulted in me honestly pondering if I should use last year's Halloween candy to actually pass out each year. Don't worry, I never do. I have been known to bring it to school though, 10 year olds will eat almost anything.

Anyhoo...searching for just the right smackeral of goodness, I became frantic.

First of all, Sweetarts can be rolled up to LOOK like Smarties, however they are NOT Smarties.

Second of all, I just ate an Almond Joy. Does anyone REALLY buy those anymore? They must make all of their money in Halloween minis because, well, yuck. I settled on an ultimately unsatisfying tiny Hershey thing to wash away the Almond Joy all the while avoiding the lone pack of Smarties sitting next to me. (Because I know where one will lead, I'm trying to resist temptation.) And so, I now must go get a giant glass of water to rinse this Halloween candy funk off of my tongue.

The Full Report

I try to keep up with the latest news, I have to admit I am a bit tardy on this report.

Have you heard?

They found water!

ON THE MOON!

Notice the clear upstaging on this shot by George. Never say he didn't actually like the lens a little bit.

A little lonely now into week 2 without our beloved Putter, and George officially seems a bit lonely. I don't think he entirely minds his single status, but he's definitely... around a lot more.

Proof of this is his agreement to actually spend quality time near Greta and Clara (notice Clara chose to sit this one a bit far away, George has figured out he can scare the Bejeezers -- and yes, you must do jazz hands when you read that word -- out of her, and tries to regularly throughout each day.) Greta, as is the case with life, doesn't care what George does because she is going to have her way regardless of whether this means receiving fake bites from George. Clara -- as is the case with life -- isn't up for a battle and has better things to do than argue. With a dog.

In the meantime...

while you're waiting for meaning and thought and genuine heartfelt sentiments about our life, this will have to suffice for the moment.

It's a "Family Thing". Some families pray before each meal. Other families have Family Game Night. Some families hunt together, some cook, some watch a favorite movie. We take a photo of ourselves. It just sort of...happened, and it's happened often enough for it to now officially be our "thing".

And, while there is not one ounce of vanity -- or sanity-- to this, I find it's relevance to our short and wonderful weekend totally poignant and it just makes me

beam with warmth and delight

and so I had to share it with the rest of you.

SOrry

Okay, patience please. Although you probably have 8 thousand things to do besides read this blog anyways. We headed to a quick weekend at the beach, and I have a couple of pictures I will post this week. But this evening has been calming everyone down, laundry, baths, and now bedtimes begin. One down, one to go.

THE BOTTOM LINE

42 pairs of underwear really is too many for a four year old.

(Although it does mean I technically can go 6 weeks without having to include those in the laundry. Yet, how much room does something for a bum that size really take up in a washer and dryer anyways....)

In honor of this day

If nap quality was measured on the Fujita Scale like tornadoes, I just had an F-5.

If naps were measured on the Richter Scale like earthquakes, this one would be a 9.7.

If naps were measured in computer memory, I just tok one worth several thousand Gigabytes.

Basically, I had a good nap. Actually, good is actually a derogatory word to describe the peace and serenity I just experienced. I don't even let my students use the word good. But I'm still a little sleep-drunk, and so I just don't feel like thinking up a more interesting word.

The house is dark and chilly, the constant rain from Hurricane Ida is relentless as our rain gauge is filling now past 4 inches and there is still more anticipated. Chris and I enjoyed a great lunch together, as he is off today as well. Certainly no golf among this rain and wind. Yes, I sent the girls to school today. My plan was to get a lot done around the house, but this is so much more effective. A happy and rested mommy lends itself to a much more peaceful home.

I couldn't complete a blog about rest and happiness however, without mentioning that the reason this is possible today is because of Veteran's Day. So, while I could just thank the veterans for giving me a day off of work, I find myself to be a bit more civilized than that. Thank you Veterans. You are also giving me freedom, security, well-being, and a more peaceful quality of life and I am thankful for all that you sacrifice within your lives to help everyone else. A big shout out to our neighbor over in Afghanistan working hard to come home in a few months, just in time to turn around and greet the next addition to their family.

Thank you Veteran.

Ho Hum

So, if you made it through yesterdays posts and are still reading this blog, thank you. It continues to be oddly quiet around the house.

WORDS:
Never teach your toddler to say the name of your terminally ill dog, because the day before the dog dies your toddler will learn to say his name. And from that point on, all dogs will be called that name.

We got in the car this morning, put on the kids music station, and the song that was playing was called "Cold, Wet Nose". What is the world trying to do??????
However, right after that song came on the song you see in the sidebar on the left: Really Nice Day. What an awesome song! It couldn't have come on at a more perfect time. The song was lighting the forest of trees a brilliant orange in the crisp pre-frost of morning, and it is Friday. My school's auction is tonight, and a neighbor is watching the girls so Chris and I can actually slip out for a couple of hours.

Happy Weekend everyone. And PLEASE listen to that song. I hope it brightens your day as much as it did mine!

November 4, 2009 Part Three

If you haven't read the previous two posts, please scroll down and read those first.

So there we are in the waiting room. Waiting. Waiting for Putter to have the catheter inserted so that we can provide him relief from the pain and discomfort he is experiencing. It is truly an awe-inspiring moment, not necessarily in a good way, but not entirely bad. It was a time of reflection and thought, of questioning faith and judgement, of uncertainty.

In this emergency veterinary hospital waiting room they have a flat screen tv on the wall. A welcome addition to drown out the thoughts that must be racing through anyone's mind who is unfortunate enough to need such service. The unfortunate part, was that the tv was on the Independent Film Channel. No offense to independent film makers, however, in the midst of such an emotional time the last thing I really want to try to divert my multiplying thoughts is a subtitled asian ninja movie. And yet, the circumstances of life would not allow me otherwise. I saw the remote. I vainly tried to change the channel. Some dynamic level of engineering not clearly posessed by me at the moment (or anytime for that matter) was needed because the station would not change. And, as I gently layed down the remote and tried to unsuccesfully settle myself in a wicker chair abounding with fluffy pillows, my back to the subtitles, I hear screaming. Horrible, terror-stricken, dramtic, Emmy-award winning screams emanating from the black box on the wall. 'What on earth IS this' my thoughts relinquished me to wonder. And as I looked I see clearly the climax of the movie where one young ninja-type character certainly most nobely chooses to end his own life by thrusting his sword through his own chest, thus releasing screams of agony from what could be presumed to be his true love, who promises that now 'he can return home' (thank you subtitles). Not what I needed at them moment.

So, as I try and release that tortured moment from my already tear-stained face, the other gentleman patiently awaiting news on his dear pet returns from wherever he was. I am assuming he needed to get away from me because I have to admit, the snorting and snuffling and nose blowing would've made me gag if I wasn't the one doing it. He comes in and checks in at the desk, and suddenly I hear music. The kind of music from a carefully selected ringtone probably assigned to a very important person. Such an important person who is calling to check up on this man and his beloved pet. And the song on his cell phone?

Oh Danny Boy...

the pipes the pipes are calling...

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the possible significance to this situation....

And as we stayed with our beloved friend in his final moments, which were indescribably full of peace, serenity, and a deep sense that this was exactly what should be happening at this moment, he rested on a soft cot, with a cushiony blanket, as if someone knew he was coming and this would just be the perfect place for him.

The moon relented on the way home, and allowed us to enjoy the black night. It was tough to see the empty bed, to bring in the collar, to retire the leash. It was sad to wake up to a house one body quieter than it was the previous morning. I'm sure there will be a few more sad times, as I can not erase the vision of my friend beyond rest as we tearfully closed the door both physically and metaphorically on a life whose true purpose in this world hasn't even been fully understood though I am sure it was completed.

We love you Putter. We did, we do, we always will.

November 4, 2009 Part Two

Please read the previous post in order to be fully understand what is going on here.
And another warning: this post is full of cliches, similes, and potentially obnoxious metaphors. I apologize in advance, it is my sense of healing and closure.

The night now felt like a burden, like burden forever to be etched in my memory. Every movement I made felt like my feet were filled with bags of sand and pins and needles were in my clothing. Knowing every single thing we did for the next hour more or less would be Putter's last, and our last with him. It was almost unthinkable.

A neighbor -- so much more than a neighbor, our savior in so many ways -- came over to sit with the girls while they slept, endearing us with stories of his youth in a small, rough coal mining town in Pennsylvana, and how they "took care of this" themselves 65 years ago....Inappropriate, completely. Unexpected? Not at all.

We loaded Putter in the car to make the 20 minute drive, and, because this wasn't feeling long enough before we even left town we had to get gas.

Finally on our way, the road blacker than imaginable, the moon appeared as we cleared through the trees. That moon. That annoying, ridiculously bright bulb that hung in front of us the entire way, like it was pulling us right to where we needed to be. Accustomed to the lack of streetlights anywhere in the county, usually night is deep, dark night. The moon felt like the sun. Looking at it felt like I was looking at a lightbulb. It burned my already reddened eyes as it forced as to move closer towards our destination. Move towards the light...move towards the light....We're coming.

Once in the building of the Emergency Veterinary Office, there was one other 'customer' in the waiting room. I was not shy of my red eyes, my snorts and sniffles, my heaving chest. I know that customer was not there because their animal was getting their nails clipped. It is the type of place that you feel an automatic comraderie when you walk in. Like you walk in to a giant group hug, because you know everyone there has a very special thing in their life they are concerned about.

But a waiting room is a waiting room, and unfortunately, we had to wait. My stomach felt like it wanted to leap outside of my body and run back home, and I wish it had. I didn't like the feelings it was giving me. Our turn at the front desk, and there were painful decisions to be made. 'Do we want to be present?' yes 'Communal of private cremation, or none?' Communal Sign here. and here. and here. and here.
Then they took him back to insert a catheter.

More waiting. This time, just the two of us in the waiting room. Us and our red eyes and runny noses. And doubts and fears and insecurities. I am so glad we were there together.
To be continued....

November 4, 2009

We have heavy hearts today as we mourn the loss of our beloved gentle soul, Putter John Noll. We never knew Putter's birthdate, when he came into our lives he was a year to a year and a half. In all possibilities, his birthday could be right around now. He had to leave us much too soon, however, as he was only around 8.

Putter has had lymphoma for a while, we found right before Labor Day weekend. We were able to keep him with us much longer than anyone anticipated, and are thankful for that.

On Monday we had him in for a "Quality of Life" evaluation at teh vet, and while Monday was "not his time yet" we were assured that it would not be long, and we would just know. My biggest fear all along has been that his vet would not be the one to be there when the time was right, and, of course she was not. Yesterday afternoon, while on his daily walk, we noticed Putter was crying in pain every now and then. The rest of the afternoon was fairly uneventful, but perhaps that was because we were in and out of the house. By 8:00, the time for relaxation for Chris and I, Putter was in his usual position on our bed. He kept crying out in pain, and as we took him outside for the night, we noticed his suffering had definitely begun. It was nearly an impossible decision to make, but we knew it was time.

MIssing

Quick, somebody help me! My baby is missing!

Seriously!

That soft baby smell, that freshly baked loaf of warm mushy person, right dow to her toes...
MISSING!

That precious grin from ear to ear that lit up a room and crinkled those pillowy cheeks...
MISSING!

The hugs, and snuggles, the silky blanket wrapped around tiny fingers grasping the textures with one pudgy hand and my neck with the other...
MISSING

And in it's place is left
a squirmy
indecisive
LOUD
whiny
little GIRL
who has learned that
she has an opinion
and isn't afraid to
use it
and that
no
is a real word
with power
that she
can also use.

And if you try to tell me that this is indeed the same person...she has just come out of her chrysalis and has molted from babydom...that this is my angel, my easy baby, my pride and joy...this is really it...
Then I will say:
take it back
I want a
refund. Or a big bottle of wine.

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