Entries from May 1, 2009 - June 1, 2009
I was called to jury duty last week. I was not thrilled and rather than recount the 4 hours I sat in a surprisingly comfortable chair reading old magazines I would recommend you enjoy JD's account on her blog Things I Do So You Don't Have To. And Part 2.
This is one of my favorite blogs. Even though I had to go to jury duty, I am very glad she wrote about her experiences so I don't have to!
What is it with dogs? When Cinders and I are out walking, invariably some little yappy dog starts yapping smack to my dog. Some 8 pound little bundle of testosterone (or the doggy equalivent) decides if she wasn’t tied up on this leash, she would take my dog down just for walking on her sidewalk. The teeny senseless animal commences to bark and growl and pull at the thin piece of leather my dog could chomp in two with one bit and deliverers the carnine equivalent of “ Your mother is a ......”. I don’t speak dog but I have teen boys and I know smack talk when I hear it.
Cinders just keeps walking. Sometimes she stops and stares at the little piece of fur with a death wish. I’m not sure those critters even register as dogs to Cinders. I suspect she thinks they are squeak toys. You know what dogs do to squeak toys! However it is not her squeak toy so she doesn’t get to play with it. My command to her in these situations is: We maintain dignity. In the face of little dogs with Napoleon Complexes Cinders and I will stroll sedately by.
However when the size is on the other paw, Cinders is no wiser then her teeny kinsmen. There is a Doberman who resides behind a 3 foot wrought iron fence mounted firmly on a 2 foot brick wall. There is something about Cinders that inflames the dog with the desire to do either Cinders or I serious bodily harm. This dog is big, with great big teeth and a ferocious bark. In the face of this obvious display of dominance, you would think Cinders’ would stroll quickly past the Doberman.
No, not my dog
She starts barking smack at the dog that could chomp her in two with just one bite! Cinders’ lunges for the fence, held back by both a fairly thick leash the Doberman could have for dinner and still be hungry and me, Cinders' not happy owner, growling, “You want a piece of me!” The Doberman starts circling. I know he is hoping to spin fast enough to create a vortex that will lift him over the fence so he can rightly respond to the stupid dog dissin him.
What is it with dogs?
As I approach 50 I am bringing to see some wisdom in accepting limits. This is not the same as allowing fear to stop me but there is wisdom in not wasting time, energy and money on what cannot be. Some limits I have decided to accept:
I cannot provide a rational enough argument to convince my teen I know more about life that he or she does.
I cannot eat and watch the first 20 minutes or so of Bones at the same time.
I will never give up coffee, chocolate or mysteries.
There are times during my cycle I will not be able to sleep.
I will always have to choose whether or not to worry about my semi-adult and adult children. I get that I do not have to choose to worry but I’m not there just yet.
What limits have you chosen to accept?
This is a sad tale but one I want to tell. You may have noticed you have an abundance of aunts on your mother’s side. There is one you have never met. Neither did your mom for that matter. Her name was Virginia. She was born June 11, 1963. She died February the following year. I don’t remember what she died of, I was only 4 at the time. She had red hair and blue eyes. I remember coming down the night she went to the hospital. Nana was sitting at the kitchen table, feeding Virginia baby food and crying.
I remember people bring food, dressed in black and being hugged a lot. Grandma Farrell was staying over but she wasn’t very fun to be around. I’m sure someone told me what happened but for years I though mom had given the baby away because there were so many of us and I was afraid she would give me away too. I am sure there were some days she would have like to but she never did.
June 11, 1964, Nana gave birth to her 6th child. She was a pudgy, happy baby with thick red hair and bright blue eye. I think that child comforted Nana in her time of loss. Later Nana gave birth to a third child on June 11. Another blessing to ease the pain that day would bring.
By the way the odds of 3 children being born to the same family on the same day of the year are 133,000 to 1.
More to follow.
Love Aunt Carissa
PS: Please FB a picture of you with your pink mitt!!
This entry was originally posted last Memorial Day. Sadly and thankfully it is still appropriate for today.
I am of the post Vietnam generation. I didn’t lose any friends or family in that war. None of my peers were drafted to fight. The wounds, losses and pain my parents experienced during WWII, were healing by the time I was born. Memorial Day has been nothing more than the start of summer. The time you began to count down to the last day of school and first day of summer vacation. There were cook outs and a parade we got to march in because my sisters and I were in girl scouts and speeches at the park gazebo. The Rotary Club had a Closest to the Flag fundraiser each year. Since my dad was both an active Rotary member and an avid golfer, we would go that event sometime during the weekend.
These past five year, there are too many families with to much to mourn. For them Memorial Day is no longer just the start of summer. Young men and woman lost because of old men’s hubris. For these families this is no longer a carefree holiday.
There is a young man I care about who may be shipped out. I hope this day will not become something other than the start of summer for him and his family and the many others who love him.
Lord, Please keep Willy safe, emotionally, physically, mentally and spiritually as he serves our country in this time of war. You are the one who holds the king’s heart in Your hands. Please guide us out of this conflict. Amen