Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Mama went and registered me for another trial!

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

Katie here.  You know, first Mama goes and visits Ricky without me.  Then she takes me to school and tells me I have to pay attention more because she’s registered me for another trial and we have to get focused.

And then she brings CHICKEN to school and I’m so crazy I can hardly stand it.  She says she thinks I’m a little too motivated with the chicken and says maybe she’ll go back to cheese.  I say, how can  I be TOO motivated anyway!?!  Mamas are crazy.

So anyway, Mama registered me for my very first obedience trial!  Ha!  Like she thinks I’m going to be obedient?  Me?  I’m a princess….in case any of you have forgotten.  I do what I want when I want to.  Unless there’s cheese or even better chicken.  Then I do exactly what my Mama wants right away.  I guess I can be bought.

The trial is Sunday April 28 at an arena about an hour away.  Wish us luck everybody!  We’ve got a couple of weeks to practice.  Mama says she doesn’t have to memorize any crazy signs and all I have to do is heel when she says to heel and watch her.  I suppose I can do that.  Oh.  And come when she calls.  And sit when I’m supposed to sit.  And stand when I’m supposed to stand.  And not be afraid of the judge even when she touches me!  But those long sits and downs?  I got that, no problem.

I may be a princess…but I am an educated princess.


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Heard on the radio

Driving home in rush hour traffic I thought I heard we are going to send astronauts to lasso an asteroid and park it next to the moon.  Hmm.  I don’t always listen to the radio carefully when I’m driving my crazy commute.  And lassoing an asteroid seems highly unlikely.  Maybe they were talking about a movie plot.

After supper I thought I’d see if I could look it up.  And what do you know; if you google lasso and asteroid up pops the story which is very interesting.  But it makes me wonder.

Do we need to park an asteroid next to the moon so that we can explore it as practice for going to Mars in the 30’s?  Do we need to go to Mars?  I’m not saying we don’t, just that I haven’t figured out exactly what the long term benefit is for spending this much money.

The radio report said that there is money in the national budget for this program.  But there’s no money for mental health issues?  No help for people who have been unemployed for months and years?  Programs for kids going to bed hungry are getting slashed.  So are benefits that many retirees thought they had earned.

Don’t get me wrong.  Space exploration is an exciting, sexy topic.  It gets attention and is certainly more interesting than stories about budget cuts or sad, confused, hungry people.  So I’m open.  Tell me why we’re even contemplating this program.  I try to see both sides of an argument.

Or are you as incredulous as I am?


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See you at the movies

I felt, as many did, that I lost a friend when Roger Ebert died yesterday.  I remember watching his show growing up, enjoying the sparring between Gene Siskel and Roger.  How many of us made our movie viewing decisions based on their thumbs?

I also read Roger’s blog pretty regularly.  And I was sad when he said just the other day that he was going to take a “leave of presence” while he fought back cancer once again.  He wrote about a lot of things, not always movies.  In fact not a whole lot about movies.  He was always interesting, sometimes poignant, sometimes funny.  He wrote as if we were all his friends.  I hope we were.

I like to think that perhaps he and Gene are catching up now, perhaps working on a new project together.  And if heaven is perfect and different for everyone, then I’m sure there’s a movie theater there.   I hope they get to see all the first run movies together — and before any of us.

I’ll miss him as will many of you.  But weren’t we lucky to have known him at all.


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I heard the red-winged sing

Daffy Daffodils

Daffy Daffodils

The weather guy forecasts more cold days, maybe even some snow for the coming week.  But I’m not discouraged.  We were momentarily in the 50’sF (10 C) on Friday and again today.  We saw a tiny bit of sun.  And repeatedly I’ve heard and seen the sand hill crane screeching across the sky.

But today I heard the red-winged blackbird sing which is proof positive that it is spring regardless of the weather guy’s prediction.  On a quick tour of the yard Katie and I found even more evidence; little bits of green poking their heads cautiously out of the mulch.

Sedum hides beneath the fall leaves.

Sedum hides beneath the fall leaves.

Brave little souls aren’t they.

Poppies poke nervously toward summer.

Poppies poke nervously toward summer.

Katie and I went looking for the snowdrops we know come up behind the house, and there they were!  Fewer this year but still blooming their little hearts out for us.

It's springtime in their hearts.

It’s springtime in their hearts.

And the clincher that it must be spring?

Almost got him!

Almost got him!

Katie chased her season’s first chipmunk up the drainpipe.

Yep, we’ll probably be roasting hotdogs on the grill any day now.

Geranium greets spring.

Geranium greets spring.


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Update on Aunt V.

Aunt Vi Uncle Warren 2010 005 (Small)We stopped in at the rehab facility where husband’s Aunt is doing physical therapy after her latest fall.  She cracked the same hip she broke in 2001.  She’s ninety-seven now and too old for surgery, so they’re doing rehab and letting nature heal the hip.

She’s been at the facility for about four weeks now.  It’s brand new, clean and she has her own room, so it’s light years ahead of the place she was in a couple years ago after surgery.  She seems content here and is in less of a hurry to go home, knowing that she’ll get more therapy here than she will with a home visiting therapist a couple of times a week.  She can’t walk without help yet, so that is her main goal.

She was very spirited tonight, talkative, fully engaged.  Other than the walking thing she’s back 100%.  She is amazing.  She talked about the rehab facilities, saying they have a machine for everything, and she particularly likes riding the bike.  Really.  Riding the bike?  She says it’s just like going to the gym and working out.  Not that I can imagine Aunt V actually going to a gym and working out.  But still….amazing.

So we shall see where all this leads.  At the beginning I really didn’t think she’d be going home.  Statistically cracking a hip at 97 is not a good thing.  But once again she has proven me wrong.  You’d think I’d learn to never underestimate her.

The photo above is from a couple of years ago.  She’d kill me if I took a picture of her right now as she hasn’t been able to do her hair.   The picture below is from her 97th birthday last September.

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Cheated!

Katie here.  I just can not believe it.  Never would I think my Mama would cheat on me!  Not me!  I’m the P.R.I.N.C.E.S.S.!

But Mama and Dad went away for the weekend and they didn’t take me!  I had to go to the doggie spa!  And it gets worse!

Mama with Chris and Ricky!

Mama with Chris and Ricky!

They went behind my back and met Ricky!  Yes!  THE Ricky!  Without me!  How could they!

And now Mama keeps talking about how cute he is.  How he’s tiny.  And adorable.  And quieter then me.

Geeze.  Well let me tell you, when she came to pick me up on Sunday I told her off.  And I kept telling her off all the way home.  I used my outside voice too.  Even when we got home and I got to see my Dad I was still mad.  And I made sure they knew it.  Yes I did.

Little Ricky

Little Ricky

You know what?  They SMELLED like Ricky!  Did they think I wouldn’t figure it out?  Huh.  Parents.  What are you going to do with them.

Of course now Mom’s all like “We’ll take you with us next time Katie.”  Yea sure.  I never get to do anything fun.

But I got my revenge.  I got my Mama up on Monday morning at 5:30.  Just cause I can.  I hope they’ve learned their lesson.

Now I need a nap.  These people wear me out.

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Finding spring in Columbus

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThis past weekend I spent a delightful evening at Ohio’s Columbus  Symphony which worked in tandem with the BalletMet to celebrate spring.  I can tell you first hand it was worth the four hour drive.

The first half of the concert was filled with Debussy and Ravel.  The haunting and gentle flute solo of Debussy’s Syrink with its low soft notes was  played beautifully by a musician standing in a theater box above the main floor.  It was a perfect introduction to the night’s emotional music and a backdrop to the slow sensual dancing of two members of the ballet.

Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun followed immediately and continued the low but lush theme.  As the music grew you could almost see the green shoots emerging from the damp earth, you could smell the hint of rain and see the buds on the trees swell.  Soon I could imagine all sorts of birds, some walking along the shore, others soaring over head accompanied by the undertones of bull frogs among the reeds and, yes, the fawn frolicking in the afternoon sun.

The first half of the concert concluded with Ravel’s Rapsodie Espagnole.    Influenced by Spain, the first three movements felt as soft and wonderous as the preceding pieces and I was still imaging that pond full of wildlife, though sometimes the frogs were sounding  less Midwestern as the Spanish rhythms became more apparent.  The fourth movement finally provided all the expected fire of a Spanish dance and was brought to full realization by members of the ballet.

At the conclusion of the first half, just before the applause began, you could hear a collective sigh from the audience.   The symphony and the ballet had held us all spellbound.

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Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring:  Pictures of Pagan Russia in Two Parts filled the second half of the performance; Part I, The Adoration of the Earth and Part II, The Sacrifice revolve around villagers dancing in celebration of spring.  The group dancing during these pieces was spectacular and engaging.  And of course I especially enjoyed the clarinet work.  Of all the pieces played that evening, this piece had the biggest sound, the most intense feeling, the fastest movement.  It was as if we were all moving through spring, and bursting out into summer on the other side.

Of course there was a long standing ovation.  As soloists, both dancers and musicians, were recognized the crowd continued to applaud.  And we were all smiling.  Because for a couple of hours we  experienced the touch of spring.   No matter that more snow was forecast, that the temperatures were frigid and the winds blowing.  For those moments inside a packed concert hall we stretched toward the sun and felt the warm breeze on our faces.  We witnessed joy.

And in the days ahead as we shovel the heavy spring snow and bundle up against cruel temperatures we can remember the soft beautiful music of green sprouts unfurling, of birds soaring overhead and fawns playing in the sun, of dancers celebrating.  We were lucky to be touched by a bit of spring this past weekend, thanks to the artists in Columbus.

And that will help us make it through these last weeks of cold.

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Worrisome culture

Last week PJ, over on her Books in Northport blog, talked about worrying, where it comes from, whether or not we can stop.  If it does any good.  At first I thought I didn’t worry that much.  And I told her that the worst things that had ever happened to our family happened suddenly with no warning and since that time I had not worried much because I didn’t think anything worse could happen.

But now I wonder.

Is it true I don’t worry much anymore?  Or do I just not recognize it as worry because it’s such a natural process after years of…well…worry?  Is what I consider good planning just another way of worrying?  Are the lists I make before a trip actually physical proof of my worry?

When I turn away from the national news, not wanting to hear more am I really just stuffing worry back down inside?  Did the great recession reactivate worry that had been lurking in the far reaches of my mind and cause me to go back to work?  Is this really my worry, or am I shouldering a cultural worry fueled by twenty-four seven news reiterating the concerns of our nation and the entire world?

Has worry become so prevalent that I don’t even recognize it as such anymore?   Or has age softened my brain to the point that I just don’t know I’m worried?  Should I worry about this?

Maybe I’m just not a worrier.  Or maybe ignorance is bliss.