Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

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Falling gold

Early this morning I noticed all the bird feeders were empty and little birds were hopping arround and around the big feeder, checking each opening in the hopes of finding breakfast. So Katie and I headed out to refill three feeders. The sun was just up, tipping the trees in rosy light. The one remaining maple tree that still holds it’s leaves shone like a brilliant golden beacon against the other drab and leafless leaves behind it. As I poured seed into the largest feeder a few reamining birch leaves spun slowly down like drops of gold all around me. Katie sat patiently as I finished up, even though we could hear the finches in the branches above chriping restlessly. As I walked back into the house I glanced back and saw the feeder swarming with birds, each eager to find their place amid the falling gold that is the last vestiges of fall.


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A skunking good tale.

Bonnie: May 1992 – February 2007

I read a column in the Detroit paper the other day, describing a dog’s skunk adventure at 3 in the morning. It made me laugh out loud and recall my first skunk experience during the early years of living rurally. This story’s heroine is not current dog Katie, but the previous sheltie Bonnie. Well, heroine might be too strong. Lets just call her the lead drama queen. Though I had a pretty important supporting role. As it turned out.

I worked back then in the very stressful demanding mortgage industry, lots of hours, lots of late nights. Poor Bonnie waited patiently for me every night, but was always ready to run out and do her thing as soon as I got home. This particular night I let her out the front door, and followed her out as I did every night. She ran over the berm by the garage to go to her favorite wetting spot. Not unusual. What was unusual is that she ran back almost immediately, shaking her head and coughing. I didn’t figure it out immediately, but the smell followed her. Of course I panicked, and we both ran into the house. Bad idea. She immediately began to rub her face on all the furniture, with me running after her yelling to stop! Now! Really! Stop! The smell was..well…horrendous is a kind word for it.

I eventually got her shepherded down to her kennel in the basement. Not finding any dog shampoo I headed back out, still in business suit and heels to a neighborhood convenience store, looking for tomato juice. I walked the isles twice before approaching the register in the front. I asked if they had any tomato juice, the attendant said, no…then paused as my smell arrived…and apologized profusely that they didn’t, and offered her condolences. I headed further into town to the larger grocery store. It was going on 11:00 p.m. My feet hurt. So did my head.

At the grocery store I quickly grabbed a couple of cans of tomato juice and a big bottle of dog shampoo. I headed to the express lane (this was before there were such things as self checking) and waited in a long line. The people in front of me glanced at me, wrinkled their noses and moved almost imperceptibly forward, away from me. When it was finally my turn and I put the cans of tomato juice and bottle of dog shampoo on the conveyor belt the cashier asked how my day had been. I replied that I was buying tomato juice and dog shampoo. She finally got a whiff of me and said she was sorry. But as I was picking up my bag of goodies she still sang out that I should “have a nice evening!” Yeah. Right.

Back at the house I loaded the dog into the laundry tub and poured tomato juice all over her. Then I shampooed her with the dog shampoo. And then I rinsed and repeated. I can tell you with authority that tomato juice merely makes your skunky dog an orange skunky dog. She smelled still, ode of skunk with a faint tomato base. Yummy. It was late and I had to be at work early, so I gave up on the dog, confined her to her kennel and went to take a shower. I showered until there was no more hot water. In the morning I showered again until the hot water ran out.

I dragged myself into work, exhausted but determined to get a lot of work done. I sat quietly in my cubicle while the rest of the staff came in. My neighbor in the adjoining cube sat down, turned her computer on and called over the wall, “Hey Dawn! Did you smell skunk when you walked in here this morning?” DRATS! I didn’t let on that I did, and hoped I could finish out the day, but by afternoon she was having headaches and could still smell skunk, so I went into my boss and told him the (short version) story and went home. Walking in the door I realized the house reeked of skunk. I took the dog to the groomer for a skunk bath. But it took almost a month before the smell was gone from the house.

Poor Bonnie, she got skunked two more times in her life. I learned not to let her inside, and not to waste my time with tomato juice; just schedule the groomer’s skunk bath. I’m pretty sure that if Katie ever gets to run free she’ll be skunked too. I’ve got the groomer phone number on speed dial.

Katie: born December 2006

Still skunk free…knock on wood.


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Is it hard to play a violin if you're Cookie Monster?

Last night I attended the Halloween Concert put on by the University of Michigan School of Music, Theatre & Dance. As usual a wonderful time was had by all. The musicians were dressed in costumes; the percussion section were crash dummies, the violas were Crayola crayons, each a different color. Oboe players dressed as characters in Alice in Wonderland. There was a butterfly and a bee, ghosts and devils, a couple of rabbits, one with a tire print up the front of his white teeshirt. A few farmers played violins, a male geisha girl played the cello, and five assorted princesses played the piccolo part of the Sousa march “Stars and Stripes.”

In the audience were costumed people as well. Adults as well as children of all ages were dressed for trick or treat. The couple who sponsored this concert were dressed as bacon and eggs; he was the bacon, she was the eggs. Just down our row of seats was the most adorable baby skunk, and up ahead of us was a child dressed as a remote control. Really. Throughout the concert parents dressed as witches and pirates carried sleeping monkeys and princesses out of the auditorium. It was a delightful scene.

And I wondered absently as I watched the performance if it was more difficult to play a violin if you’re in a giant cookie monster costume. One of the first chair violinists was ensconced in a bright blue furry suit, with the giant bulbous eyes of cookie monster lodged above her forehead. It had to be hot. And certainly not as easy to hold the violin under your chin. I saw other members of the orchestra adjust costumes as they played. I wondered if they had practiced at home in their outfits, just to make sure it all worked together. Probably not!

But my wonderings came to an end during the last piece, “The Great Gate of Kiev” by Modeste Mussorgsky. The cookie monster played a beautiful solo, low and deep and melodic at the beginning of the piece, answered in kind by the Mad Hatter’s oboe. Apparently it doesn’t matter what a person looks like on the outside. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.


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Can you do yoga with a broken foot? And other unrelated thoughts.

I went to my last physical therapy session this morning for that annoying crick in my neck. I haven’t had neck pain since I started PT, plus they gave me lots of exercises to do to keep the neck muscles stronger. And they reminded me about the importance of posture. In fact it feels good to be doing anything remotely athletic given I can’t run at the moment. Which makes me wonder just what I can do with a broken foot. I’m thinking maybe I can do some simple yoga? Do you think? I’ve got a few yoga dvds…I think I”ll dig some out and see what might work with a broken foot.

On another front I have two interviews scheduled for this coming week. One is tomorrow for holiday temp work at a bookstore. Another is later in the week for part-time library work. Wish me well, I’d like to try to do them both. Even with a broken foot.

Thirdly, Katie graduated from intermediate dog obedience this past week. She wasn’t particularly well behaved on our last day of class, probably because I didn’t work with her as much, and we only went to the park to practice our homework once during the week. But she still graduated. So next week we move on to advanced obedience. We considered for a moment not enrolling her, as a cost saving measure, but she loves school so much. And it certainly works out some of her energy on school nights, which works for me. Especially with a broken foot.


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In the present

During these stressful times we sometimes forget to enjoy what is right here, right now. And though I so enjoyed my trip up north a couple of weeks ago, I realized today as I was mowing my yard for perhaps the last time this summer, that I have a very beautiful place to live right here. I think it’s important not to lose sight of the good things we already have while working toward the good things we hope to achieve. These photos are of beautiful places within walking distance of my house. Some are virtually in my back yard. I am truly blessed.


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I've been junco'd!

This morning I noticed what looked like a dark-eyed junco sitting on my brand new deck railing. Upon closer observation I realized there was a whole flock of juncos around the deck and under the bird feeder. OH NO! Juncos are only around during winter, and their arrival confirms that the summer is truly over. Even if I ignore the 40 degree morning I can’t ignore this flock of dark little birds. Guess it’s time to take down the humming bird feeder – ey? For a look at what a junco looks like check out this link. Bet if you live around here you’ll find out you’ve been junco’d too!

http://www.birds.cornell.edu/AllAboutBirds/BirdGuide/Dark-eyed_Junco.html


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Doing more with less

I was talking to someone this week about my search for public library work. She seemed to feel that I should have no trouble finding work, because she had heard that public libraries were even more busy in these trying economic times. That in fact is true. As the economy turns to mush more people recognize and begin to use the resource in their midst. And while public libraries are not “free” because the library is generally funded through taxes, they are still a pretty economical place to find information, music, internet access and programs. So in theory as libraries become busier, the demand for services increasing, there should be more need for librarians. And maybe there is more need, but a key thing is missing, and that is additional funding to support the additional requests for services. And in fact, just like everyone else, libraries are learning how to do more with less. In these economic times libraries are not exempt from budget cuts, layoffs, shortened hours and reduced services. It’s a sad comment on society that an institution that can provide support to those facing unimaginable decisions struggles to provide adequate services to meet increased demand precisely when it’s most needed. So I continue to look for work and hope that someday I can contribute again.


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Favorite toy

A sheltie friend posted about his favorite toy, so Katie wanted to mention her favorite:

What you say? You’re not sure what this is? It’s a Mr. Froggy! Poor froggy has been sewn up a couple of times, lost his eyes (purposefully, we took them off for safety reasons) and his squeaker squeaks no more. But she loves him anyway.

She’s also fond of:

Mr. Squeaky who makes a loud shrill noise that Katie finds very useful early in the morning or late at night when she feels she isn’t getting enough play time. Sometimes Mr. Squeaky has to be put on a high shelf by Katie’s parents just because. And…

tennis balls! Any tennis ball will do but the smaller ones are especially good for playing fetch. Or dropping near a neglectful parent for a more subtle reminder that it’s PLAYTIME!

But mostly it’s Mr. Froggy who wins the popularity contest among Katie’s massive basket of toys.


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Advice for someone who is moving on

Sometimes things just change in life and it becomes time to move along. It’s never easy and it’s likely to hurt. A whole bunch. But moving on can also be healing; an exciting time of new beginnings, hopeful new starts heading in new directions, brave explorations of the soul and the world. The best part of considering a move is thinking about all the possibilities, but sometimes having so many options can be overwhelming. My advice is to give yourself time and space for quiet reflection, don’t let anything or anyone interfere with that time. Eventually you, and only you will know which path is the best one for you at this particular place in your life. You’ve made huge strides while taking baby steps through this process of change. Be proud of the distance you’ve come, and don’t be afraid of what still has to be done. You have the basis for building a pretty wonderful, fulfilling life again. Just give yourself time to accomplish all you wish for, and make sure you give yourself credit for all you’ve done along the way.

After all, if you think about it, we’re all moving on.

Photo: My sister and me making one of our first moves many years ago.


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Fracture

So…my suspicions were confirmed last night when my doctor’s office finally called with the bone scan results. Yep it’s a stress fracture, most likely happened during my long training runs. Double drats. I went today and got the boot. I’m unclear if I’m supposed to wear it during sleep or just when I’m walking. I guess I should get some better instructions. Anyway, it’s been less than 12 hours and I already hate it. I also don’t know how long I have to wear it, as in weeks, months, forever. I think I’ll call the doctor’s office tomorrow and get some more information.
Meanwhile, Katie barks at it, barks at the plastic bag I wear over it to keep my toes dry in the rain when she wants to go out, and is sad because we can’t go to the park and run around. I’m sad too. But really glad I didn’t have the news before my wonderful weekend!