Perfect

This is the garden taken from the upstairs window - thru the screen.

From afar, it doesn't look TOO weedy. But trust me, it is.

Someday I'm going to have the perfect garden is kinda like saying someday I'm going to have the perfect life. I'm talking about a garden where weeds don't grow and the only things between the rows is luscious, brown, tilled-up soil. I wanted such a garden this year but I started working and the garden is too God Damn big. Excuse me. But to reduce the lawn area that requires mowing, my husband doubled the size of the thing last year. Does he weed or otherwise deal with the garden - NO. But in his infinite wisdom he determined that we needed a bigger garden. So someday . . . I will have the perfect garden.

One very simple way to achieve this would be to have a container garden like my friend Nan. You see it has to be manageable. Otherwise, what is the point.

Other thoughts on working vs. not working

Not working is better. Did I say this already in an earlier post? As much as I like aspects of working and making money and interacting with people, the idea of lounging at the beach, writing, writing poetry, and writing songs is all very appealing. Perhaps after my work stint, my new goal will be to attract abundance doing something I truely love - like writing or writing songs.

A life of leisure. Now there's a goal. Forgetabout the perfect garden. What was I thinking?

No more fun and games

Before and after shots of our 3 plus months together.

Here are the pictures I promised a while ago of Daniel and I after our time together.

See how paunchy and pudgy we were in the before shots and see how muscular, fit and happy we are

in the after shots. It was a beautiful few months and now it's back to reality. I remember I wrote in my blog

how this quiet life was quietly becoming facinating. Well it's quiet no more.

I've decided rather quickly that working is good or bad depending on how you look at it. Bad in that I am no where near as relaxed as I was. Bad in that I have less time for fun things. I rarely cook anymore (good or bad?). I used to cook the kids breakfast and make pizza on Friday nights. You see in a way by working I treat myself more because time is more precious - by buying pizza for example. Daniel doesn't come on the walks anymore (good or bad?). I am less anal about my new car and specks of dirt that accumulate on the floor mats. I am less anal in general because I simply don't have time. For example, Toto pooped all over the living room rug one night after Doug gave him copious amounts of left over salmon skin and a pan to lick. This didn't really bother me in the slightest, though Doug did clean up the mess. Could that have had something to do with it?

Good or bad? The frickin pay is GOOD. I am telling you when the payroll clerk told me the amount of my first check for 2 weeks work I almost dropped the phone. The take home pay is more than 3 times what I was bringing home at the newspaper. So that is GOOD. And I have promptly planned a few excursions so that money doesn't burn a hole in the bank account. Doug and I will go to Bermuda for my cousins wedding in May and the whole famdamily will go to the Everglades and Keys this April! It's not cheap to buy airline tickets for five or even two people these days. So the extra cash will help ease the strain.

Also after being unemployed, it's good to be employed and I do like having work colleagues again. But my creative pursuits are suffering.

Unrelated thoughts:

• I don't necessarily like being this busy. I used to think my creative impulses would flow when I was really busy. Now I don't necessarily think so. I think slower might be better for creative pursuits. But this one gem did come to me in the midst of my new job frenzy. In fact I was going to compose a whole list of things my mother taught me but only this one came to mind:

If you spill milk and wipe it up with the sponge, you have to rinse out the sponge or it will really smell.

I must have neglected to rinse out the sponge as a girl and remember her telling me this in the kitchen like it was very important.

• My mother now brings a picture of her grandmother, Grandma Hill, around with her when she travels. She says it's her guardian angel to help her when she forgets things. It's actually really cute - she places the framed photo on her dressing table to look over her.

• As unsettling at times as this new job has been (it's an adjustment) - because 40 hours is 40 hours. I do feel that my guardian angel (my deceased friend Helen) is providing me with this excellent work opportunity somehow. The job literally fell into my lap. It's also made me realize this is how people who work feel - stressed and busy. It's given me some empathy insight.

• Has anybody out there seen the Wrestler?? Pretty good movie.

20/20

Mom is long gone and I am still recovering . . . .While she was here I caught the full-blown flu from my son Matthew. It started on Monday night as I was caught wondering why my knees were aching horribly. The next day I knew. Actually for the next week I knew. On third thought I still know because after fever, aches, and sore throat, I developed an eye infection that is still on the mend.

Now that my mother is gone - it's out of sight out of mind - the worry that is. You see she and my father are growing OLD and she at least doesn't seem ready to face the inevitable. Inevitable being assisted living, nursing home etc. As we toured one assisted living facility's nice two bedroom unit she asked "Where will I entertain." On the positive she still has a terrific spirit of life but on the flip side she should not even be driving and is not ready to acknowledge even that.

One night after a wonderful dinner of grilled chicken with all the fixin's she had her mind fixed on dessert. And not the strawberries and cream I had so laboriously prepared. "Do you have a biscuit, a chocolate biscuit?" No. She asked two to three more times hoping one would materialize. It didn't but it did bring to mind a story I remember when her mother visited our family when I was young. My mother prepared a wonderful meal of roast beef with all the fixin's and when her mother sat down she promptly said, "No gravy?" Well my mother was not happy as her loud rattling around in the kitchen indicated. But she did make gravy. I suppose I could have gone and bought some chocolate biscuits but I didn't.

So unfortunately I think her visit contributed to my illness (which Daniel also caught - negating weekend plans to go to Maine) and my subsequent eye problem.

Which leads me to my next point - I do not see as well with glasses as I do with contacts. I started wearing my glasses because with my contact lense, the infected eye became more irritated. Anyway, I almost feel like I've lost one of my senses completely with glasses on versus contacts as illustrated by the following examples:

• On my solo drive to Maine, instead of taking I-95 out of Boston I continued on I-93 a good 30 miles before I realized my error. Yikes. I am blaming my blurry eye and the anticipation of two days of freedom.

• On my solo drive to Maine, I didn't realize I had my EZ-Pass in the glove box as I cursed myself at each toll booth for forgetting it.

• On my drive home from Maine, I proceeded through one toll booth without paying and with my EZ Pass still in the glove box because the car infront of me appeared to go right thru. In hindsight I barely sighted a $1.00 sign as I cruised thru the booth. I am awaiting my summons from the Maine Turnpike Authority any day now.

• At my morning swim at URI, I somehow missed all the signs posted on the women's locker room re: using another locker room due to the lack of hot water. As a result, after swimming, I proceeded to the showers, scantily dressed, only to find real, live, men working on the plumbing. Whoops. I figured I was safe to change when the plumbers walked by saying something like "Oh I thought we were on the other side [of the locker room]."

• That same fateful day I dropped my sweatshirt on route to the parking lot without even a scant recollectiong of doing so.

With my compromised vision (yes my glasses are the up-to-date prescription) there's no telling what I might run into. And if you see me with my glasses on, please introduce yourself.

Willow Tree Chicken Salad

Where the magic happens - Mom's travel cosmetics.

Well her chicken salad is all gone and even though I just spent a good half hour shucking (is that the right word?) the two lobsters in the fridge and carefully cutting up and placing the meat for lobster salad in a container -- she cannot be distracted from Willow Tree. She'll need a sandwich on the plane Wednesday afterall.

So far during Mom's visit, we've found the sink running full-on in the middle of the night, the oven blaring away and have had to put up with the blatantly rude comments like "Those mussels didn't come from near a sewage outfall or anything" (addressed to the chef) when we took her out to dinner.

Yes she's getting old and more and more like her true self I guess. She's even a little fuzzy. "What are those round white things?" she asked referring to the green olives on a tray. "Why are you putting butter in with the olives?" she asked as I cut up cheese to place on the same tray. And while talking to me she said "I'll ask Gay to take me to CVS later." Hmmm. Not sure who she thought I was. And she didn't like my joke when I asked (in regard to the olives) if she was losing her mind.

What can I say? I would love to be that loving, all-patient daughter but I'm not and am reserved to the fact that she will need care someday from a non-family member who can love her like she deserves to be loved. I find myself getting defensive at the regular, negative comments and at the PASSIVE requests to take her on errands for the many things she forgot to bring. I was going to take a photo of the table that she has taken over with her cosmetics to give you an idea but cannot find the camera. No one could keep track of that many things.

Danimal update

• At the beach a few weeks ago - the last time the sun shone for any length of time by the way - Daniel asked a group of brothers three times if they needed help digging their hole. First they said no. Then they said not yet. And on his third try they relented. Another friendship was born and his brother Matthew joined in with the pals, who all played for a good hour or more.
• Outside the library: When he saw a woman smoking Daniel said, "That lady has only 20 more years to live. Besides it's not cool and it smells. I'm glad you don't smoke." Not sure where he picked up these messages but he's right on.

• We've met more and more people on our graveyard walks and the more people i.e. DOGS we meet, Daniel will say something like "Wasn't that the greatest walk ever!?"

Toto update

• On a weekend graveyard walk with the two dogs I literally turned around and Toto was gone. After circling, searching and calling for a good half hour (my throat was hoarse), Tia looked exhausted and I thought I better take her home. As I walked home and thought the kids will kill me, no one will believe me, that's our last dog for a while, and what will Toto's foster mom say, I finally arrived home literally dragging Tia along. And who did I find inside but Toto who had been home a good half hour. Our dog of two weeks has some kind of nose or brain and I am truly surprised this scardy cat didn't get hit by a car. Now I keep a much closer eye on him and him on me.

• One graveyard walk there were two very curly dogs and I was surprised to find out they were Portuguese Water Dogs. They looked too small to me. The owner explained that was because we've seen one dragging the First Lady around. Oh.

A dog's life

What a life.

• Our lives have have been consumed with Toto for the last week. Poor Tia. She basically ignores him though a couple of times on our graveyard walks - when Toto is engaged in rough play with another dog - she intervenes, almost like she is protecting him. Tia is definitely getting less attention because Toto can hear, follows everyone around, and wags his whole body when someone awakes or walks in his general direction. Poor Tia.

• From my point of view, Toto has blended right in with the family. He is now loose in the house at night with Tia and thus far we have had no episodes. He is basically trained with the electric fence though he did run thru it when Doug had the weedwacker going. He doesn't like loud noises - who does?

• I found out Toto can make some noise when he wants to when he found a snapping turtle in the graveyard. This is the most I've heard him bark since his arrival. The turtle snapped at Tia's nose, but she escaped. Daniel touched it's shell. We left well enough alone and haven't seen that old snapper since.

• Now I realize that as an unemployed person I have limited stuff to talk about with my husband at night and with you. I talk about the graveyard walks, who we met today, and what Toto did today. (He kicks out his feet in the grass after he poops, lie a real male dog.)

• So I hope I am not boring you too. This quiet life has become quietly fasicnating. I have been taking the dogs for walks daily - sometimes with Daniel and sometimes alone. Alone I met another unemployed person named Steve Rogers. How nice to have such a simple name. He asked me a couple times - and your name is? He's an architect and said there is another laid off person who walks her dog in the graveyard named Myrna. I'm sure our paths will cross. Hi I'm Mary Smith - it would be so simple. It is good to know, in a Schadenfreude kind of way, that there are other laid off people in my little world.

• Steve's dog was the first dog I've seen Toto really play with and he held his ground. He didn't roll over on his back like I thought he would. He proved to me he's a regular pup with other young dogs. You see at home, Tia basically ignores him, so I didn't know.

• Today, Daniel made his usual beeline for any sightings of humans/dogs and we met a new dog and owner. No names exchanged yet. This dog was rescued by a friend of hers from a listing on Craigslist. This beautiful Golden was left in a crate all day barking and going crazy. The owner said something about submissively urinating but I'm not sure what that means. Anyway this dog went from being crazed and afraid of almost anything - clouds for example, to a well behaved, friendly, gorgeous dog. Another reminder that people who really don't want or plan to take care of a dog, shouldn't get one. This gal Sadie was an Xmas present for the kids. Poor thing. Toto was running circles in the graveyard with Sadie and Tia joined in. Daniel loved watching his action.

• Good thing I'm still home unemployed (I start work July 1) because the strawberries are in and that involves daily picking. One pie, desserts with Cool Whip, frozen berries in the freezer awaiting something, and a giant bowlful on the counter awaiting perhaps another pie. Unlike store-bought berries, decisions about these berries' fate must be made within a day. Makes you wonder what do they gas the berries in the store with? Or soak them in?

• Mom comes for a visit on Wednesday and SOON Doug and I will be making daily trips to the Belmont Market for Willow Tree Chicken Salad. She's addicted to it and Doug was wondering how big a container he could buy. She'll eat a contractors bucketful in the week. More on this next time.

Toto has arrived!

What are you lookin' at?

After a week of anticipation, Toto finally arrived with much trepidation. He was truly scared when he was unloaded from the transport trailer. After a few days he's perked right up. We are training him on the electric fence and taking him for walks. Right after I got the choke collar, he was much improved on the leash. Cars scare him. Barking dogs scare him. The goats and pedestrians scare him. He easily could have died on walk one by being hit by a car - luckily his collar was on tight enough so he couldn't slip out.

Barbara, who we meeet on our graveyard walks, said "Who do you look at all day? They are both so cute - meaning Daniel and Toto." She also said (like everyone) "He is so cute" and "You must have fallen in love."

We all have, not so much because of the cuteness factor but because he is so darn affectionate. Though after this mornings walk he downright smells - unfortunately like feces. Perhaps it's time for his first bath, here.

All in all he's settled right in and hasn't peed or pooped in the house once. The only issue is the night time. On night one he cried so much in his crate that after 5 minutes I let him out and slept on the couch. On night two I put the crate in the basement and slept like a baby. On night three my son Matt woke me up to say Toto was crying. Yes he was and loud - even though the crate far away. He seemed fine in the morning and his foster mom said he cried for her too the first few nights. She brought the crate in her bedroom but I don't think that would go over too well here.

I am so tempted to just let him loose in the house at night and see what happens but his foster mom recommended NO.

Doug says the dog is very lucky but if you met him you would say we all are.

Toto is not my favorite name, but he responds to it

The garden is planted and the household projects I want to do for now are done. There really is an endless amount of things to do. I can think of a few off the top of my head – the interior window frames need painting, the trim outside looks like it needs painting (I don’t want to get on a ladder anyway), the dining room table needs stripping and finishing. But I think I’ve fallen in my old pattern of always needing to do something. Besides there’s plenty of regular maintenance work to do around here like washing, shopping, cooking and the like. And besides that we have a new dog coming tomorrow.

His name right now is Toto. It all happened quite suddenly. You see I spied him on-line and he had the right kind of hair that needs to be clipped (Doug is allergic). And he wasn’t too big. He weighs 28 pounds right now. To make a short story even shorter, I quickly applied and was quickly approved to adopt him. Unfortunately we’ve had to wait over a week for his arrival. But he’s coming tomorrow!

I am already anticipating all the effort that will have to go into his arrival and training. Mostly I need to train him on our electric fence and get him adjusted to our wake up schedule and his sleeping new arrangements. I plan to use a crate at first until we all get used to each other. It will be a bit of an effort to get him trained (or is this negative thinking?) to the fence. You see we can’t just let him out initially like we do with our dog Tia. The first person up will have to take him out on a leash for the first week or so and that will likely have to be me.

I seem to be thinking about all the work and training and not simply about the joy of a new dog. He sounds like a great dog from talking to his foster mom. AND perhaps if I just think things will go swimmingly they will.

More like this: He came home and it was like he has always been living here. I didn’t even have to use the crate because he slept on Tia’s bed with her right away. He didn’t pee in the house EVER and with the fence training flags out around the yard (he had an electric fence at his foster mom’s house) he knew he had to stay in the yard right away. He didn’t chew on thing. I never worried about leaving him alone – not once and he didn’t either because he had Tia’s company. What a good boy. He was definitely meant to be part of our family. If only babies were so easy.