As I was doing laundry this morning and feeling a bit underappreciated  I remembered my father’s “magic sock drawer.”  My mother died unexpectedly in July of 04, and in December of that year he wrote his first (and only) Christmas letter.  In it he wrote that he was doing OK alone, other than the fact that his magic sock drawer seemed to be broken.  For 52 years his sock drawer had always contained clean socks.  Now, without  Mom, the drawer no longer produced.  I was wondering this morning if my husband knew where his clean clothes came from.  I’m sure he does.  But that led me to considering that most people have the equivilent of a magic sock drawer somewhere in their lives; sometimes it just takes time and effort to remember. 

Me, I have a magic checking account that always seems to have a little money in it.  That’s even more magic now that I’m not working very much.  And better still, I never have to balance it, it just gets balanced every month without me wondering about it.  So I guess being the magic for the sock drawer is OK in return for being the receipient of the magic balanced checking account.

What’s YOUR magic sock drawer?  Does your magician know how much you appreciate it?

So much to tell you, where to start?  First of all the wedding we attended last weekend in Illinois was very nice.  Great to see friends and watch their daughter get married.  All that young hope and excitement!

Second the puppy did well with her personal puppy-sitter.  But I think she missed us even with all the special attention she received.

Back to real life, I was scheduled for five hours in the library’s youth department yesterday.  Five hours is a very long time to be in the middle of a very energetic group of youngsters.  Most of them ranged in age from newborns to 9 or 10 years old.  All of them appeared to be noisy and demanding.  Some of them were cute.  Most of their behavior reminded me of recent puppy episodes.  I guess this makes me a dog lover rather than a child lover! 

This morning I went to my favorite park, Kensington, and ran/walked four miles.  Ran a quarter of a mile, walked a quarter of a mile.  That worked as the beginning of getting myself back into shape to run the Crim race in Flint which is the end of August and is 10 miles, and maybe, just maybe the Detroit Free Press marathon (or half?) which is the beginning of October.  Not much time to get it together.  Here it is July and I can sort of run 4 miles!  Friday I will try to do 6.  This is way too fast to add miles, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do to get ready.  And really I’m only running 1/2 the distance; even that is more like a loping shuffle than an actual run.

On my last running quarter mile, up a hill I have dubed “heartbreak hill” a young couple came running up behind me.  With no heavy breathing they passed me on the hill discussing taking a two minute walk break at mile 15.  Right.  I remember those days.  Vaguely.

But it was very good..very very good, to be back out there, remembering the comradery between runners, listening to the bits of stories from people that passed me or I passed.  Yes I passed some people!  Watching the lake turn colors, feeling the sweat drip, even the aching in my left foot.  It was all good. 

You’d think as a library student I would have no stress at all.  And lately it has felt blessedly that way.  But yesterday and today I’ve been trying to get ready to leave town, my sister is in from NJ to “puppy sit”; the dog has been even more insane and now apparently has an urinary tract infection.  Great.  Trying to schedule a vet appointment and leave on time to get to work stressed me out this morning.  But on the way to work, driving behind an endless line of commuters across the back country of Oakland County I saw, standing right beside the road three sandhill cranes.  Mama, Daddy and a young adult.  SO COOL!  I’ve never seen a young one before.  It was a miniture of the adults.  Stress reduction was immediate.  I was so lucky to have spotted them.

Anything and everything can be a minefield of emotions.  Going to the grocery store opens me up to all sorts of sudden and painful memories.  Today in the produce department were fresh apricots.  Decades ago we camped at a state park in Utah among an old appricot orchard.  The appricots were ripe and free for the picking.  We ate many of them.  I associate the ripe smell of an appricot to the warm nights under the Utah stars. 

For a second, upon seeing and smelling those apricots, I felt a stab of pain.  Then there was a slow smile that chased away the sad thoughts as I remembered the four of us kids climbing up the canyon with Dad and Mom, chasing each other up the path so eager to see what was at the top.  Looking out over those appricot orchards and campers, across the red mountain face to other mountains on a cloudless afternoon.  Gorging ourselves on appricots while sitting around the campfire at night.  Falling asleep exhausted.  Waking up so exicited to spend another day “out west.”

 These are good memories. I can choose to spend time dwelling on the pain.  Or I can choose to remember the fun.  Appricots, sunshine, campfires, moonlight, stars shining so bright we could touch them from the tops of the mountains we explored.  Those were special times.  That’s a lot of memory to be attached to an appricot.  Makes you smile doesn’t it!

Free at last!  Yesterday was the last day puppy Katie had to be a cone head!  Last night I took it off and she was SO excited!  She rubbed her ears for a long time and then began to prance around the living room.  She brought her favorite toys to me, and then we played a rousing game of fetch with most of them.  We played until she exhaustedly went off for a nap behind the sofa.

I settled on the sofa to relax and watch some television.  Suddenly something, I don’t know what, trigged memories of my mother’s funeral.  Instantly I was back at the church, watching someone else play the organ Mom had played the week before, seeing the coffin in front of the pulpit as we all spoke.  Long, low, racking sobs emerged, grief held in too long spilled out.

Unseen by me, puppy Katie crept out from behind the sofa, and crawled up onto my chest.  Softly, oh so gently, she reached out a paw, and then gently licked the tears from my face.  Soon I was giggling and hugging her and then she sprang from the sofa and ran for her toys.  We were again engaged in play. 

Such is the love of a puppy.

Tonight Katie is going on day 8 of wearing the cone that keeps her from licking the stiches she received after being fixed last week.  She’s OK with the cone.  I’m really tired of it.  She wants so badly to play, and we’re supposed to keep her “quiet.”  No jumping or running or leaping or licking or chasing.  No insane games of fetch.  No leaping on owners heads while they are sleeping.  No fun at all.  She is so antsy she is biting hands, nipping at legs and feet, crying, bringing her toys and dropping them at our feet, watching us constantly with big eyes.  Can’t we just PLAY?  Please?

So this evening I took her on her first grownup dog walk in the neighborhood.  She has forgotten what little she learned in puppy school about heeling and behaving on a leash.  We got about two houses away and she noticed the big brick mailbox they have.  She’s never seen such a thing before and she sat down, refusing to advance any further.  At all.  Period.  I picked her up and carried her past the menacing mailbox.  Next came the empty trash cans left by the side of the road after garbage day today.  Another first for her. She sat.  Again I picked her up and we advanced up the road together.  We went four houses up and four houses back.  By the time we were in our own yard she was dragging.  She is now asleep on her princess pillow.  This may be a much better way of wearing her out then allowing her to just sit on her pillow and watch the world go by.  Better for me too!

Yesterday Katie was a puppy, wearing her cone, the result of being spade last week, if not happily at least enthusiasticaly, and racing around the house.  This morning as she sleeps by my feet I glance down and realize she is the same size as Bonnie, our previous sheltie.  Katie was six months old last Friday.  Does this mean she is all grown up?  How did this happen between yesterday and today?   Should I mourn the puppy stage?  Probably not as she is still chewing and racing around and acting like a crazy dog when she is awake.  Last night I couldn’t contain her energy and finally put her to bed at 9:30 because I was exhausted.  I expect several more days or weeks of similar activity.  That makes me smile amid my tiredness!  

I made it through Father’s Day yesterday without spending too much time dwelling on the fact that my father is no longer here.  I’m pretty sure he knows I thought about him, and I’m pretty sure the rest of “us kids” thought about him too, and that’s good enough.

My aunt (Dad’s sister) and uncle were here for dinner yesterday; that filled my time and kept my mind off  things too painful to dwell on.  There was a moment when we were discussing something about Mom and Dad when she got pensive and distant.  I’m sure she was thinking about him too.  She looked just like him in that moment, and I memorized her face as if I were seeing him again.  Otherwise  there weren’t any sad times.  I realize how lucky I was to have him as a father; I was lucky enough to realize that while he was still living.  Today he is still my Dad.  It’s just that I can’t call him and wish him a happy father’s day.

 To all of you who CAN call your father but didn’t yesterday, for whatever unimportant reason, you can make today father’s day.  Every day can be father’s day if you choose.

It’s been almost two weeks since I last wrote!  People say time moves more quickly as you get older.  People also say time passes more quickly when you’re having fun.  I think I’ll just go with the second idea.

Library work is a blast.  If it weren’t for the commute I’d be having a really good time!  Who knew that working could be fun!  I am sure that when I add in special projects soon to be assigned, and then add full time schoolwork this fall my attitude will falter.  But the neat thing is, I now know that when I complete this last year of school and find work at a public library somewhere I will really enjoy the work.  That’s a wonderful thing.  I wish I had known work could be so fun years ago!

I survived my first shift alone at the reference desk!  And better yet, it was fun!  Granted, it was Friday night and slow.  Not a lot of people with burning reference questions on a Friday evening.  But there were enough interesting topics to keep me busy.  Students with papers to write, older members of the community with bits of trivia to look up.  And the locals using us as directory assistance to avoid paying their phone companies to look up pizza joints and restaurants.  That last bit, looking up the phone number for the pizza joint?  Made me wonder why I need a masters degree…

Regardless I was just sitting here thinking that I would enjoy doing this even if I wasn’t being paid.  Amazing.  I would do this for free.