It was almost as if Rover knew, and that she welcomed the anticipated and final catnap, which she knew would be much more restful than any of her slumber during the last few months. As I sat there with her, I looked at her beautiful paws, which I always loved. My beautiful polydactyl puss.
I remember being very distraught at a certain point during my life and having her sleeping on my chest, purring so loudly, that her purr lulled me to sleep. I remember being pregnant with Iz, and Iz moving around unsettled in my tummy; Rover would climb under the covers, lie against my tummy, purr loudly, and then Iz would stop moving about and go to sleep. ♥
After we left the vet's office and walked to the car, Barb said rather surprised, "That was so peaceful." We got into the car, and as we drove through downtown, Barb said, "Last week, I was so upset." She paused and then said, "But, it was the thing to do." And, then through tears, she said, "But, I will miss her little face at the door."
After I dropped Barb off, I headed to the greasy spoon in town, because I was starving, and I didn't want to be at "home." After a salad, a cup of chicken noodle soup, and two glasses of wine, I had to go home and tell Iz about Rover.
When I arrived, she asked me where I had been. I told her that I had taken Rover to the doctor; however, Rover had gone to cat heaven. She sobbed, and then she asked where was Rover's body, would we get Rover's body back, and, finally, if we get another cat could we name it Rover?
I gave her Rover's collar, and I told her that we would get Rover back; however, she would be ashes. I told her we would scatter Rover's ashes and have a party to celebrate her life. Right now, she is at her desk making invitations for everyone to Rover's party. Ah, that is my resiliant and lovely girl. ♥
"The naming of cats is a difficult matter. It isn't just one of your holiday games. You may think at first I'm mad as a hatter. When I tell you a cat must have three different names."
~T.S. Eliot
Sleep tight, Rover, Doviedore, Miss Muffet. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
When I got up today, I had a sense of dread. I knew it wasn’t my usual sense of dread which goes something like, “Crap, I don’t have a job, I’ve almost been unemployed for a year, and my unemployment benefits will run out in six months.” No, it was the dread that went “Tomorrow is Monday, and I have an appointment at the vet’s at 1:30.”
I did not dread it in that I doubted my decision about Rover; it was that I just dreaded the act itself. I had to put my cat, Caesar, to sleep about 5 years ago. He had heart issues at only 3 years of age; he was on meds for it, but then one day he had a stroke, and he lost all use of his back legs. After consulting with the vets and knowing I could spend thousands with no guarantee of any change, I opted to put him down.
When thinking about Rover and Caesar today, I knew that both decisions were difficult. But, I felt, as Tomas said, that Rover had a good long life. Caesar didn’t. Can you weigh life like that?
My UB said yesterday that his Dad died when he was 56 and yet his Mom (my grandmother) lived ‘til she was two weeks shy of her 103rd birthday. He seemed to say, “Why couldn’t she have given some of her years to him?” I have often thought the same. Why couldn’t have Granny given my Mom, who also died at 56, a few of those years? It may be shameful to admit, but it’s something that I thought once upon a while ago.
My friend, Chris, emailed me today and asked me if I was still in two minds about Rover. I told him I wasn’t. I agreed with Melissa (a.k.a., Tunabreath). It was time.
Rover meowed to go out. Iz was there at the door, and I asked her to pick up Rover and bring her out into the front lawn. Iz knew we needed to bring Rover to the street, make sure there were no cars coming, watch Rover cross, and make sure Rover was let into Harold and Eileen’s house.
Rob was in the driveway working on a car, Rover waddled up and greeted Rob. I said, “Hi.” Rob asked, “Have you changed your decision?” I said, “No.” Iz quickly said, “Is Rover going to live with them?” I told her that she wasn’t. Then Rob said, “Well, I’ll tell Barb. Maybe Rover can stay here.” I said, “It’s time.” He said, “Well, she’s got life in her.” I sighed.
Iz was clinging to my legs, and I was unsure how much of the conversation she was understanding. I then said to Rob, “Well, I haven’t [pointed to Iz] discussed this with everyone. But, there’s no quality of life here, and I imagine there’s pain.” He said, “Well, I will tell Barb.”
I was still firm in my decision; however, I felt badly that two people who loved Rover just as much as I did felt so differently.
I was so distraught that I cleaned the whole house. Usually, I clean the downstairs, and then say I’m going to clean the upstairs. Or, I clean the upstairs, and then say I’ll clean the downstairs. But, today, I cleaned EVERYTHING. At 2:30, I said, “I need to go out for a ride.”
It was 50 degrees, if that, a tad bit windy, and I really didn’t feel like going for a ride. I just needed to get out. I popped on my headphones, put in my water bottle, and I got on my bike. Within two minutes, my hands and feet were freezing; however, I kept going and going and going. I love the rail trail; well, I tolerate it. Who am I kidding? It's a love-hate relationship. And, today, it was more love than anything else.
I have voiced my rail trail complaints in a previous blog (see http://goddessofallthingslovely.blogspot.com/2009/03/adventures-in-cycling-for-george.html); today, I did experience a new rail trail persona! It was the person who walked briskly, carried a big library book, and was actually reading that library book while walking. It was somewhat like this, except picture her older, in a warmer coat, and with a more intense look on her face.
How does someone do that? Smart Human Tricks, I’m sure! I had nearly crashed 10 times in one ride just trying to scratch my itchy bottom!
I then passed a couple that I’m sure I had passed two or three times before. I might have even mentioned them in this blog before. They’re not unlike those couples on the HUGE Honda Gold Wings, who have the microphones attached to their helmets for communication purposes. Instead of yelling back and forth at each other, they quietly converse via microphone. I envisioned the cyclist microphone-bearing couples’ conversation went something like this…
“Whaaaat?” “I need to stop.” “You need shop? No. It’s not in our budget if you want to make it to the Champs-Elysees by the end of the tour!’ “No, I need to stop.” “What? Stop? For what?” “To pee!” “For tea? But, I thought you only drank coffee?!”
Well, you can see where I’m going with this. These two looked like the guys from “Sixteen Candles” with the gizmos attached to their helmets.
I’m sorry, but geeks! And, maybe, just maybe, I was a bit more critical than usual given all that I had on my mind.
I biked the rail trail up and back, and while doing so, I pretty much thought about nothing but Rover. She looked horrible and was quite wobbly. I knew it was time, and as Melissa said, I was doing what I was because I love her.
The hardest part will be going to the vet's and then telling Iz. When at the market tonight, I picked up some food for Rover -- two cans of a fish dinner by Fancy Feast. Iz asked, “Is that all?”
This will Iz's first death. After all I’ve been through, I should know how it goes and how to handle it all, but I still don’t. You never want to be an expert at Death, although it might feel like sometimes you are. Time after time, no matter who or what it is or how it happens, it is never the same experience; but, nevertheless, it still always hurts terribly. ♥
I visited my Uncle Bill (my Mom’s older brother) today at Tufts Medical Center in Boston. He had quadruple bypass surgery on Tuesday. His daughter, Lisa, had emailed me last week to tell me; and I was quite stunned that he even needed such a thing.
The funny thing is that I never feel my age; thus, it’s hard for me to think of my mom’s brother (“UB” as I will call him hereafter), Bill or her sister, Ethel, as old as they are. That’s why I couldn’t fathom that UB needed this surgery to begin with. UB is not “that old.” I guess it’s good that I err on the side of young always rather than on the side of old.
Anyway, I hate driving into Boston, so I opted to take the T from Alewife (Cambridge, MA). When I am in unfamiliar territory, I’d rather be on foot than in a car. I hadn’t been on public transportation in quite a while, and I love the fact that public transportation is a great people-watching venue.
When I was seated in the car, three giggly girls, who didn’t look much older than high school, got on. Though, from eavesdropping on their conversation, I determined that they were home on Thanksgiving break from college.
One said, “She asked me if Nico and I made out at prom?!?!?!” The same one answered her own question and responded with, “Noooooooooooooooooooooo!” They all laughed. She said, “She told me that she thought everyone made out at prom.”
These three young women were dressed in light-weight coats and one even had flip-flops on. Oh, to be young again and feel warm even when it was only 50 degrees out with 35 m.p.h winds!
Okay, I had no idea what their conversation was all about, but it amused me nevertheless. And, I have no idea what it is about me that makes me love to observe people, their mannerisms, and overhear their conversations. It’s not that I really want to hear the sordid details of their lives, though when I do hear them, I’m intrigued.
I think it’s more about the fact that I like to look at them and imagine in my mind what their lives are all about. Every person has a story, I know, but every person I see is a potential story, even if it’s one I might make up for them!
I also like to look at the advertisements in the train.
Did you know you can get from Boston to NYC for $18 on Peter Pan and they have free Wi-Fi?
Bay State College can help you “Turn what you love into your life’s work.” Um, I highly doubt that, since I’ve been trying to do that for the last nine months on my own; however; it sounds like a good story.
Fur doesn’t grow on trees. I liked that. I refuse to wear fur. I get rather confused, because I do have leather coats and leather shoes. But, I’m not a vegetarian. But, I have four furry creatures, so I guess I can relate to the fur issue more at this point in time, though at times, I feel like a hypocrite in that regard.
Finally, did you know (Tomas MUST know this already given that it involves the Red Sox and Northeastern University) that the FIRST world series was played at the Huntington Avenue Grounds, which is now part of Northeastern University?!
Anyway, I took the red line to “Downtown Crossing,” stopped in Macy’s to buy UB some Godiva chocolates, and then I walked down Washington Street ‘til I arrived at 800, home of Tufts Medical Center.
I walked in the main entrance, and I found my way to the very teeny tiny reception desk, where a woman sat behind it. I said, “I’m here to see my Uncle.” I gave her his name, and then she told me his room number.
I found it odd that I didn’t have to show ID or wear a badge. Perhaps I had been watching too many episodes of Law & Order lately. Yeah, that’s probably it. Remember, Jean, UB is not recovering from a gunshot wound and testifying against a member of the mob; he had bypass surgery!
I took the elevator to his floor, and then I looked down a very long corridor. I kept walking, walking, and walking. I finally entered the unit, and I went to the desk and again stated my business to a nurse wearing a smock with sunglass-wearing bananas all over it. Yes, really! (No. I didn’t make that up. When I do make sh*t up, I’ll let you know, okay?!) The nurse said, “Go around the corner, walk straight down to 483, and he’s the second bed in the room.”
I thanked her, and I walked down yet another long hallway. If truth be told, I hate hospitals. Yeah, who has “Am good with people and love hospitals” on their resume?! Okay, maybe a nurse or a doctor does. To date, the only three positive hospital experiences I’ve had were two healthy and wonderful children and being shy a set of tonsils, which were the size of tennis balls, that were extracted from my throat at the ripe old age of 25.
When I found UB’s room, I walked in hesitantly. Well, you hate to barge in unexpectedly and see your loved one bending over in one of those hospital gowns, especially when it’s your Uncle! I walked slowly, and I saw a man sitting up in a chair.
“Uncle Bill?” He look at me, and it seemed he recognized me from the look on his face. And, then he looked at me again, and he said, “Ooooooooooooooooh, hi!”
I hadn’t seen him in at least two years. Recently, he had inquired how I was doing, and I did my standard bury-my-head-in-the-sand tactic, because I wasn’t doing too well. I had told my cousin, Lisa, how I was doing; however, I told her I would call her Dad and let him know that I was alive, so he wouldn’t worry. Unfortunately, his heart surgery came out of the blue, so there I was. And, he was so glad to see me. You gotta love it when people are glad to see you…and in this case, when you are glad to see them…healthy.
He said, “You look great.” I said, “Jeez, so do you!” Other than the scar on his chest, which I got a small glimpse of, he looked terrific. It was so good to see him, and I was so glad that he was okay.
He asked me about the kids, the cats, and the dog, and I told him they were all fine. I asked how he ended up with the bypass, and he told me how he felt things weren’t right on a trip to Maine. He was slated to see his doctor the Tuesday after the trip. Right after the nurse took his vitals, he was whisked off for a cardiac catheterization. Once they saw he had two valves blocked at 85% and another at 100%, it was time for surgery.
He informed me that he was going home today, and that my Aunt and my cousin, Lisa, would be coming to get him in an hour or two. As we chatted and caught up, I told him that it was great he was going home today without any rehab. I said, “Well, you were in pretty good shape.”
He said, “Well, your Aunt didn’t think so. They say that spending most of the day by your laptop or on the couch isn’t exercise.” And I said, “It’s not like you were spending your day by your laptop eating a bag of Fritos!” And UB responded, “Well, I’m not saying that THAT might not have happened every now and then, but it wasn’t all the time!”
I laughed hysterically. And in that moment, I thought, “Why wasn’t it ever this easy to talk to my Dad like this?” And then Uncle Bill said, “You know, we always thought how sad it was that you didn’t lose one parent but you had to lose two like that.”
I didn’t get to see my Uncle a lot when I grew up, but in that moment, I wished I had seen so much more of him, especially in the last two years. He said, “The family has gotten smaller, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t all try to stay together. Your Aunt is in Colorado, but she’d feel the same way.”
Then he said, “So, what do you think about that Facebook? Is that a kid’s thing or what?” I then told him that it was one of the best things that happened to me this year, because I had connected with five women from high school (Cathy, Anne, Marcia, Laura, and Melissa) who I loved so very much then; and Facebook made me realize how much I still do love them and need them in my life.
We then started to talk about our English relatives. UB asked me, “Do you know how hard it is to find ancestry information about a Smith?!” I guess the fortunate thing was that Fred Smith married a Turnbull. Turbull was not as common as Smith. UB had been exchanging letters with a relative in the UK until about two years ago; unfortunately, the letters stopped coming. He thinks that the relative died.
He then told me about his grandkids, one of whom is at Northeastern majoring in criminal justice. He said, “She called her Mom and told her how the autopsy she witnessed was cool.” He said, “Cool? I’m sorry, go away!” He was laughing, but I didn’t dare tell him that I might think it cool, too.
Okay, well, I probably would think it cool on TV, but not in person. Because, then we talked about the fact that my Mom was a nurse and had no fear...ever. Uncle Bill told me how he had twice fainted at the sight of his own blood, and I recalled almost passing out in Hawaii when I skinned my knee on the rocks; Suzebabe can attest to that! Yeah, I’d never survive an autopsy; well, I wouldn’t survive viewing one!
At 4:30, my Aunt, and my cousin, Lisa, came to fetch UB. They were happy to see me, as I was them. Lisa invited me for a girl’s night with my cousins. (UB and my Aunt have four girls.) I gladly accepted. She also invited me for Xmas Eve and Xmas Day.
Thanksgiving here was fine. But, it was missing something. It was missing family. For years, I’ve felt that when my parents died, I lost “family.” But stupidly, I missed the family (UB and his family) that’s been staring me in the face all this time; a family that has been wondering where I’ve been lately, what I’ve been up to, and loving me all along. This Christmas, I’ll try to be there with them. ♥
After talking to Melissa today, who is a veterinarian, I came to the conclusion that perhaps it was time to put Rover to “sleep.” I guess the technical term is euthanasia, which in Greek means “good death.” It was the act of “humanely killing.” I was fine with “euthanasia,” “humanely,” but when I read “killing,” I cringed. Believe me, I didn’t take losing another loved one from my life lightly.
I had gone back and forth for months about what was best for Rover. And, I finally called the vet today. I made an appointment for Monday at 1:30. While talking to the receptionist, I started to cry. She knew Rover; everyone knew Rover there. And, I felt horrible.
I went down to make a cup of tea, and I searched for Rover. I wanted to pet her, hold her, and make myself feel like I had done something good, because I loved her. She wasn’t in Monty’s bed, her usual place to sleep. Just then, I feared that when Iz went out bowling, Rover had gotten out.
I opened the door and saw Barb getting out of her car across the street. I yelled in a panic, “Barb, is Rover there?!?!” Barb yelled back, “Yes, she is. Do you want her?” I answered, “I didn’t know she had gotten out.” Barb yelled back, “Why don’t you take my cell number?” I yelled back, “Wait a sec. I’ll be over in a minute.”
I ran across the street, and by the time I caught Barb, she was on her way in the door. She said, “Let me you give our cell numbers. Then if Rover is out, you can call and let us know, so we can let her in.” Barb had wanted to plan for Rover’s continued future, and I knew then, after Monday, Rover did not have a future.
I said, “Barb, I’ve called the vet. I’m going to put her down on Monday.” Barb started to cry and said, “What? Come in, and tell Rob, too.” I had surprised her, but I knew I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell her the truth. When I went in the kitchen, I saw Rover curled up under the dining room table. Barb said, “Tell Rob.” I told him that I felt Rover had gotten that much worse, and I felt that it was time to……..[hard to say “it” for what seemed like hours]…put her down.
Barb wanted me to update Rob on all the particulars, perhaps because she was too upset in the moment; and I totally understood that. We chatted in the kitchen, and between my tears, I told them how I felt that it was just time.
Rob asked me what medications she was on, and Barb said, “It seems like she’s happy though.” And then Rob said to Barb, “We’ll talk about it.” Barb said in between her tears, “Well, you know, she can always come over here during the day.” I said I knew that and thanked her. I left, leaving Rover there and Barb in tears.
I needed some time to think, so I went off to the gym to run. When I used to work, everyone thought I was a tad bit crazy for running every day; however, running was oddly enough never about exercise for me. As exercise, it was secondary. Above all, it was the time when I could think most clearly about my life and all that was going on in it.
After I left the gym, I thought about all Barb had said. I knew Rover was near and dear to her heart, given that Rover had lived at her parent’s house during the day for the last few months. I also wondered if Rover somehow even meant more to Barb, because her parents were older. Despite all the love and devotion, which was huge between Barb, Rob, her sister, and her sister’s husband, Barb knew she would eventually lose Eileen and Harold. And here Barb was going to lose Rover first and soon.
At 5:30, the doorbell rang. I opened the door, it was Barb with Rover in her arms. She handed Rover to me, and she said, “Whatever you decide to do….” Barb gave me permission. And although, I knew I didn’t need it, it felt that much better knowing that I had it. Barb has loved Rover, not as long as I have but just as much it would seem.
I didn’t say anything, because I was about to cry. Barb said, “She does seem to be sleeping a lot, and she’s shakier on her feet; it just might be that she’s getting close.” I said, “I’m sorry I mentioned it, Barb.” Barb said, “No. I’m glad I know now.” And then Barb said, hoping there still might be a different outcome, “Rob was thinking about making a flag. It would signal when Rover was in the house and when she was not.” I smiled. Barb said, “Okay. Good night then.”
It’s hard enough to lose someone you love; I know this. It’s even harder when you feel you have to consciously make the decision to do so. ♥ P.S. Barb is going to be there with me on Monday. I asked her to, she wants to be there, and it's fitting.
"Religion, to me, is about how you live your life and how kind you are to the people around you. And that you do good, every day, if you can do a little good."
"You just have to remember that life is a precious gift. There but for the grace of God go I."
"We're afforded one life, and that's all we're given. You've got to try to do the best you can in that life."
~Quotes from family members of 9/11 victims that are pasted to my pencil cup, the one I got at the San Diego Zoo when I visited there with Tunabreath way back when!
Happy Thanksgiving! I love you all, and "you all" know who you are!
Today, as most are, I am thankful for my children, my wonderful friends, my cute yet sometimes annoying pets, and my varied interests (writing, vintage clothing, Hello Kitty, the ocean, baking, and my new-found hobby, loitering, just to name a few!).
And as I wrapped the dinner rolls in a cross-stitched “Nothin’ says lovin’ like something from the oven” towel that my girlfriend, Bitsy, made me years ago, I am most thankful for my life, especially the last nine months of it. ♥
I have always been a baker. My Mom’s grandparents owned a bakery in Cambridge when my grandmother was little. My Mom always said there was flour running through my veins.
On holidays, I remember my Mom making an apple or pumpkin pie. She made her own crust. She told me that the sure way to ruin a crust was to roll it out too many times. She had a tried and true recipe that she used, and I use it to this day.
I remember the last time I made a pumpkin pie; it was a long time ago. It was for Thanksgiving. I was pregnant with Nathan then, and my Mom was dying of pancreatic cancer. When we all sat down for dessert, my mother was upstairs, because she couldn’t come down to eat.
Upon first bite, everyone commented that I had forgotten the sugar. Ah, no wonder, eh? I had prided myself on being such a good baker, but for the first time, I screwed up. I remember feeling horrible, and Quinn, Nate’s Dad, said to everyone, “Well, just put honey on it.” I loved him for that. But, there was an overwhelming sense of disappointment among the troops anyway.
Anyway, this Thanksgiving it is indeed a small celebration, very small. I set out to make a pumpkin pie this morning with sugar; thus, I began by scraping the innards of my Halloween pumpkin. Not!
Never scrape the pumpkin. Buy the canned pumpkin gelatinous stuff.
Prep the Kitchen-Aid mixer, your buddy, your friend, your baking confidant for the last 20 years!
Mix the pumpkin filling. Search long and hard for the cloves in the overwhelmed spice drawer.
After 10 minutes…Post Note to Self: Organize spice drawer. Cloves found!
Always get a good night’s sleep before making a pie, so you don’t crack the egg in the sink instead of into the bowl!
Prepare your dough surface well. Flour enthusiastically!
Form your pie dough into a nice round ball.
While doing so, make sure you are well floured.
It bears repeating, but ensure you are well floured.
And, make sure there is flour on the floor; it gives you more credibility as a baker. Real bakers leave a flour trail always!
Never employ an assistant pastry chef who cares more about snoozing and bottom washing than helping!
And, if said assistant pastry chef is less than you bargained for, always make him, err, the butt of a joke. This is lard butt!
Roll your dough into a circle.
And while doing so, don’t read your mail. Because you might find that your alma mater wants you to come on an 8K safari, that you couldn’t even afford if you were employed!
Roll your dough into an even bigger circle!
Put dough into pie crust and crimp the edges.
Make sure there are leftovers. Why? You will see in a moment.
Roll extra dough out in order to pimp your pie with pastry ornamentation.
Put the pie into the oven.
And in an hour, find that you have the perfect pie!
Finally, clean up after you watch the next episode of Law&Order. ♥
Obviously, and as evident from this blog, it doesn't take a lot to amuse me these days, which I suppose is a very good thing. Today, I was thinking about my brief loitering stint the other day; it was a lot of fun, err, even if no crime was really committed. In my younger days, I was never really wild or much of a rebel. So, today, for fun (again, it doesn’t take much for me), I decided to...
"Loiter Softly and Prowl Like a Big Kitty."
It would appear that loitering is usually a statute or an ordinance. Remember, I’m not a lawyer; I just play one on my blog when I’m not playing a loiterer in real life. Loitering is ”to stand idly, to stop numerous times, or to delay and procrastinate.” And, it would appear that I’ve been doing a lot of loitering around my own house lately. Thank goodness, there are Fashion Police but, as of yet, no Loitering Police at home!
In case you didn’t know, there’s also something similar to loitering called “prowling.” Yeah, I thought prowling was something only cats did, too. But, prowling is “the crime of lurking in an area with an intent to commit a crime.” So, I guess loitering is lurking without intent; therefore, it doesn’t seem much different from chillaxin’, perhaps for much too long, in a public place.
Wanting to expand my loitering horizons beyond the scope of my own home, I went off with my ever supportive photographer and critic, Nathan. He’s no Francesco Scavullo, but he works for cheap, a Subway turkey and cheese sub to exact. I said to him, “You get me.” He said, “I pretend to get you.” Good enough for me!
Loitering…with red lipstick this time, Georgie!
The funny thing is that this sign has been in this doorway forever; however, from 10-2pm every day, the same guy is always standing there with his Dunkin' Donuts cup. Apparently, the police in this town don’t take loitering very seriously and, as you can see, neither do I!
Loitering…by the mailboxes.
No mail was prevented from going into the boxes while I was standing there. I did get many strange looks though. Hey, don’t knock loitering by a mailbox until you’ve tried it. It’s a good way to meet people!
Loitering…in front of the courthouse.
Loitering right under their noses! I had to wait until the security officer went back inside before I could sit down. Am I a wild woman or what?!
Loitering…on a park bench.
As park benches go, this was quite comfortable, though I wouldn’t want to ever make it my primary residence.
Loitering…in the woods.
By the way, if a tree falls in a forest and someone is around to hear it, it makes a sound! And, don't listen to those naysayers; loitering in the woods can be a learning experience!
So, I thought prowling might be something I’d like to try, so I consulted an expert, Liam. Here we are trying to get into the prowling mindset. Funny, but it sure took him a lot longer to get in the prowling mood than me!
I thought about it for a while, and I decided that I best leave loitering and prowling to the experts.
Exhibit A: Feline loitering on a car in the parking lot whilst prowling the area from above for mice, birds, and women who are pretending to be loitering!
Speaking of my critic, upon examination of the outtakes from the loitering photo shoot, I found about five photos similar to this one.
I don't think he "gets" me or my art! But, I know he loves me. Good enough for me! ♥
Tomorrow’s To Break Statute, Ordinance, or Law Note: Trespassing!
Note: No laws were broken during the making of this blog. Thus, answering the age-old question, "Can you have fun pretending to break laws?" Hell ya!
Even though I’m totally not ready for it, financially or emotionally, I had to face the fact this last week that Santa Claus is indeed coming to town soon. Is it me or were the Christmas items out even earlier in the stores this year? Every year, it seems like we have to start thinking about Christmas a week earlier. If I’m on Crane Beach next August, and I see a plane fly overhead advertising “Stock up now for Xmas,” I will scream!
When I was in college, I only got to think about Christmas and holiday shopping the day after I finished my exams and was headed home for Winter break. Back then, I longed for time to savor the holiday and enjoy it; however, it seems I could only do that once I made sure my semester ended on a good academic note. And, this year, I had all the time in the world to enjoy it, yet somehow I was dreading it all.
I think part of it was due to the fact that I felt February was right around the corner. I’d be unemployed for a year then, something that I didn’t even want to think about. Thankfully, I was rattled out of my silent but everpresent “Just say no to ho-ho-ho!” mindset when Iz and I were at the mall last week.
She asked if we could see Santa. We had to get home, so I told her I would take her back on Monday. It’s funny because a year ago, she would not get anywhere near the Easter Bunny, Santa, or the Wicked Witch of the West; she refused to watch “The Lizard of Oz.” This was the milestone year though. She had her picture taken with the Easter Bunny this Spring; and only two short days ago, she said, “Mommy, I’m not afraid of the Wicked Witch of the West anymore!” And now she needed to visit Santa.
Earlier today, I had tried hard to find the only picture I have of me on Santa’s lap. Is getting your picture taken on Santa’s lap something that’s just become popular in the last 15 years or was it that my parents never had enough money to spend on such things when I was younger? At least, I was not naked on a bearskin rug anywhere in my family photo collection!
Anyway, I remember being at the Natick Mall with my Mom and my sister, Julie. This was the old Natick Mall; it was not the shopping Mecca then that it has become today. On a whim, my Mom said, “Why don’t you girls sit on Santa’s lap for a picture? We’ll give it to your Dad for Christmas.”
It was not such a big deal; however, we were 17 and 16 at the time. So, we sat on Santa’s lap, and I’ll never forget getting up and feeling Santa pinch my ass! Yes, really. I was so naïve at the time that I didn’t say anything. I just stood there thinking, “Did Santa just pinch my ass?”
When I got Iz off the bus today, she asked, “Are we going to see Santa?” I told her we were. Noah, my neighbor’s son, also got off the bus. He is in 5th grade, and he and Iz do a lot together; and when they do, they get along really well. Noah is the youngest in his family. His next to oldest sibling is Nate’s age (16 years old). Noah and Iz have a good brother-sister thing going on when they are together.
Iz asked, “Can Noah come with us?” I asked Noah if he wanted to join us, and in his very laid back manner, he answered, “Sure.” I called his Mom, and at 3:30, off we went. I wasn’t sure where Noah was on the whole Santa believing scale, so I texted his Mom to ask. She said he didn’t believe anymore, but he wouldn’t ruin it for Iz. I knew he wouldn’t; however, I realized as I was driving up to see Santa that I didn’t know what Noah believed or didn’t, so I had to ask.
And, I knew Noah wouldn’t say a word to Iz. Nathan believe a lot longer than Connor. Connor is Noah’s older brother and the same age as Nate. Connor knew the truth about Santa long before Nate did, and Connor never said a word to Nate nor did his older brothers, Zach and Chris.
On the way up to the mall, Iz and Noah talked about their expertise or lack thereof (Iz’s case) in cursive writing. They also discussed what they wanted for Xmas. Iz wants everything, and Noah only wants an iPod!
When we arrived at Santa’s village, the elf asked, “Are you here for pictures today?” I answered, “Yes. What is the unemployment package?” “Two 5x7s for $21.99.” “Okay. We’ll do that.”
Iz climbed right up into Santa’s lap, and Santa said to Noah, “There’s room for you on this knee!” Noah got up on his knee. And they both began to chatter away at him. As I stood there, the elf took a few pictures, and then asked me which one I preferred. Then I heard Iz say, “And, can you get my Mom a job?” The elf then said, “I hear ya!” I take it that being an elf wasn’t her job of choice.
Iz said, “Mom, he wants to know what kind of job you want!” I said, “I’m a writer.” Then I heard Santa say, “ Writers are very important, because they create all the stories that we love to hear.” I had to pay for my photos then, so I didn’t get to hear the rest of what Santa had to say. But, in that moment, it was nice that Iz believed I would find happiness, and that Santa helped her believe that I would.
When we went by the “Picture People” store, we saw Santa yet again. I said, “Err, let’s go to the pet store.” But Iz saw him. I said quickly, “Oh, look! Santa took a break and is visiting the stores.” Later, Iz asked Noah, “Is there more than one Santa?” Noah, quickly responded, “That was his cousin, Fred!” I have always loved Noah, but in that moment, I loved Noah even more so for making Iz believe. Iz said, “Oh,” and that was the end of that.
As Christmas approaches, I believe for Iz. Santa exists, presents that are desired are delivered, and I believe that I’ll get a job soon. Sometimes it’s hard to believe, but thanks to Iz and Noah, it's that much easier. ♥
Note to She Knows Who She Is: Never ever doubt anything about you or your life. You rock, Girl. ♥
(You’re gonna be shakin’ your hiney to this while you listen to it, I’m sure. And, then you’ll be singing it to yourself for the rest of the day whilst cursing me under your breath!)
So, my friend, Kandi Koski, the flea market entrepreneur, didn’t evolve out of just anywhere. As you know, her name was lifted from someone who worked at a mall jewelry store and the rest of her life is based on my love for vintage clothes and, err, um, the Lancaster flea market.
Believe it or not, I actually went so far as to create a myspace page for her, um, along with one for Kandi’s cat, Stanley (who is played by a picture of Liam), and a seagull named Frank. Okay, enough about my fantasy world. Here’s Kandi, who is played by me.
Kandi lives in Minnesota, well, for myspace purposes, Minneapolis to be exact (because that’s where another goddess lives, Mary Tyler Moore). Minnesota must be a tough place to meet women, because several Minnesota men contacted Kandi, though Kandi didn’t respond. “Kandi” was more thrilled that these Minnesota men thought she was 28, her posted age, than that they thought she was great!
Anyway, today Iz and I spent a few hours at the flea market. I shouldn’t have told her that we were going until 5 minutes before. Because she pestered me to no end. As I was sitting in office chair, she came up behind me, and asked, “Moooooooooooooooooooooooooom, when are we going?” I answered, “Five minutes.”
She then started hugging me from behind, and I felt this rubbing sensation on my back. I asked, “Are you wiping your nose on me, Isabelle Georges?!” She said, “No. You smell good!” My daughter not only has good taste in fun endeavors (flea market), she has good taste in scents.
And, I was really relieved that I was not her Kleenex, too!
We were going to the flea market with a mission. It was time to find a desk for Iz. She loved to play school, and the papers and pens in her room badly needed a home. I remember when I was her age, my Mom came home with two old school desks for me and my sister, Julie. They were wooden with lift up tops, and the chairs were attached via a metal bar. The tops of the desks were carved with the names of student occupants past. We loved those desks, and that’s what I wanted to find for Iz.
I really had no idea if we’d find what we were looking for. In the three years that I had been going to the flea market, I had found a lot of great things. I had bought a beautiful pink crocheted dress from the 30s for $16, many embroidered table cloths, lovely rhinestone pins (I have a collection of them and it’s so not an addiction!), vintage aprons, and err, I still can’t explain why I bought these, but I love them.
I know; they are totally tacky, but yet appealing, yes? Okay, don’t answer that!
After a 15 minute car ride, Iz and I arrived at the Lancaster Flea Market.
When we pulled in, Iz exclaimed like a flea market old-timer, “I haven’t been here in years!” Before entering, we were assaulted by the Agway wares. I’ve always had a dog, but my dog has never had a house. Nah, Monty wasn’t getting one, though we wished he had his own zip code due to his barking!
Upon entering, we paid the admittance fee of $2 and picked up our FREE raffle ticket. Times are tough when you get a free raffle ticket. Iz took the ticket from me and said, “Mommy, I’ll hold this. I’m good with numbers.”
The landscape of the flea market had changed a lot since we had last been there. There were a lot of open spaces, probably due to the economy. Mrs. Nelson’s candy booth was gone. Yes, it’s a real place, and I so wanted a wintergreen patty!
Iz was, like Neil Armstrong, a person unleashed for a walk on terrain that had never been explored before. Well, it was terrain that we had explored before; however, each time, it seemed the flea market became a different planet.
We wandered by the Stephen King 2009 Desk Calendar. I guess you’d buy that if you were a collector of such things. Then, we saw a table filled to the brim with plastic wrestling figurines. And, finally, there were the Health and Beauty Aids that were “Slightly out of code or damaged.”
We walked by one of Iz’s favorite vendors. Rubber duckies galore. “Mum, look at this one. Isn’t it cute?” Fortunately, we left the flea market without a duck; we only have about 20 of them, who live in the tub, that I have to sidestep whenever I shower!
Did you know you can buy art, at great discounts, at the flea market?
And, what flea market is complete without the alcohol-themed mirrors?!
When we went by this, Iz asked me to read this sign.
I did. She then asked, “Mom, can we get a lobster?”
And did you ever wonder if there was an LP retirement home? There is! It’s here at the flea market.
I found an LP by Disco Tex and the Sex-o-lettes Review. Um, who?! Believe it or not, they were big back in the disco day. And, I didn’t feel so badly that my “Meet the Beatles” LP was lost in a basement flood. I saw it there, and it was only worth $10.
One thing hadn’t changed. I saw my favorite vintage jewelry booth. And, when Iz and I approached, the woman tending the booth said, “Oh, hello!” She remembered me from previous visits. Iz and I spent about 40 minutes there pawing over fake gems and trying on rings and other baubles.
Her name was Jean, too, and when I saw something I liked she'd say the price the owner had on it, and then she’d tell me I could have it for 50% below that price. I got a Cloisonné necklace and five cloisonné bracelets, a faux diamond necklace with a matching bracelet, and a pair of funky clip-on earrings. The rhinestone replacement guy (seehttp://goddessofallthingslovely.blogspot.com/2009/07/thank-you-and-belated-thank-you.html) can make them pierced for me. I can wear them as is, but then I'll feel like my grandmother if I did. The clip-on earrings are tolerable, but really, I don’t know how any woman did the screw-on earrings.
I told Jean that we were in the market for a desk, and she told us to head down another aisle and we would find what we were seeking. She told us we should look for a blonde woman; however, we ended in the booth of a brown-haired, Patriots shirt-wearing guy.
We found two desks, and I asked the owner of the booth if he could remove the stuff on top, so we could pull the desk out and Iz could sit on it. Once she sat on it, I knew it was her desk.
It’s funny, but I first learned how to barter at the flea market. You go to Macy’s, and you have to pay what they tell you. But, at the flea market, you never have to pay what they tell you.
I looked at the desk, and I saw the $75 price tag. Iz sat down, and it was a perfect fit. The desk was too high; however, it was adjustable. I said out loud, “I don’t know.” The booth owner said, “It’s a great desk!” I asked, “Can you do a little better than that?” He thought for 5 seconds and said, “$65.” I said, “Okay.” And, he even loaded the desk and chair into the trunk of the car 20 minutes later.
As Iz and I left to fetch the car in order to get our desk, I said out loud, as I passed lots of vintage clothing and linens, “I’ll come back next Sunday.” Iz asked, “What? Aren’t you going to take me back with you? I want to come!!!” I said, “Yes. You can come back.” I heard a voice ask, "Can you do a little better than that?" I then realized I could do no better in life than having a daughter who loved everything I loved and then some. ♥
When I was driving around yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice the signs around me more than usual (60% off sales, space for rent, and stores closing). As you know from previous posts, I like signs. And, the fact that I read and interpreted the signs as how they related to my life made me feel again like Steve Martin in LA Story, a movie in which a billboard spoke to him.
Anyway, I went to take about six pairs of shoes to my favorite cobbler in Nashua, NH. I think shoe repair is a lost art, and this man is a heel replacement artist for sure. I think he makes my shoes sturdier than when they were first new. Maybe because Gary was made in the USA, unlike my shoes that were most likely made in China.
When I plunked my shoes down on the counter, I said to Gary’s wife, “Am I the only person who wears my heels down on one side like this?” She answered, “Believe it or not, you aren’t!” I’m glad I wasn’t the only person who did not wear down my shoes in a balanced matter, even though I felt like a freak because my second and third toes were longer than my big toe!
After I left Gary’s, I began to notice the signs on the trip home. First and foremost, did you know that the city of Nashua, New Hampshire has finally come around and realized that they should name a street after my dog, the non-stop barking, Montgomery?! By the way, he’s still up for grabs. Steve, you SO know you want him!
And, here is Monty’s acceptance speech for said honor.
Basically, in it, he says, “Thanks,” and then asks, “Anybody got a bone?” and “Does this mean I can urinate on all the hydrants on this street anytime I want to?”
“I need my space.”
Okay, a few years ago, this was a big break-up line; however, there’s lots of space available today unfortunately.
Snow? Winter? Nooooooooooooooooooooo. I’m sorry, but it’s still August in my calendar!
I saw this and I remembered Tunabreath mentioned it the other day.
She asked, “Did you know that McDonald’s will give you any size coffee for a $1?” She then swore off the $3.99 (or thereabouts) Starbuck’s coffee she would usually buy instead. And, I can now see why Starbucks closed 600 stores or perhaps more in the last year.
Given the recent $99K reduction on this property in town, I felt blessed that I had a home, even though I didn’t have a job.
When at the gas station, I saw a sign that said, “Have a nice drive.” When I was running at the gym the other day, I saw on CNN that most people will be driving this Thanksgiving not flying.
I saw this sign, and if I lived closer, I probably would have applied!
Though, perhaps like Bath & Body Works, they would have found me overqualified. At this point, I didn't need the money as much as I needed something to do; I needed something to make me feel like I had a place in the world and something that gave me the camaraderie I had missed so much the last 9 months.
I drove through Groton on my way home.
Even in the darkest of times, the Unitarians always make me feel good about life.
And, lastly, when I saw this sign, I decided that I wouldn’t be broken by all the previous signs that pointed out to me how bad things are these days.
So, when you feel like your life is out of your control, defy authority, albeit just for 2 minutes so you don’t get arrested, and loiter your freaking heart out!
And, when loitering isn’t good enough, “Work it, Baby!” as Nathan said right before he took this picture.
Today, I realized that you have to bend, stretch, spindle, fold, and Zumba to get through the bad times; and however you work it, work it so you'll never be broken by anyone or anything. ♥
I am a devoted mother of two wonderful children, a writer (technical by day and creative by night), an avid baker and crock pot goddess (♥ Sucra), a runner and a cyclist, a rescuer of pets, a vintage fashionista, and a dispenser of social glue.
