Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Katie's adventure

Katie here.  Mom said I could tell you all about yesterday’s adventure.  You see my Dad was down in the basement…did you know there was STUFF under the FLOOR?…and he was making too much noise so I was telling him off.  A lot.  Finally my Mom said “lets go for an adventure”  And I said “REALLY? Can we GO NOW?”

I wasn’t sure where we were going.  I don’t think Mom was sure either.  But eventually we ended up in the town where she grew up.  That’s about an hour away and I was really good about not asking if we were there yet.

We parked near the public library where my Mom used to go all the time as a kid.  As usual she made me pose in front.  Geesh!

There was lots of traffic on the busy road in front.  That made me a little nervous as Mom and I haven’t practiced walking near noisy cars in a long time.  But I was OK as long as I could look back and see my Mom was still attached to me by her leash.

Right across the street was the church where my Mom and Dad got married.  Guess who had to sit around while Mom took more pictures?

We walked around the church block and found this house with a BIG red cat in the window.  Mom thought the cat was ceramic, but it started glaring at me when we got too close.  Can you see it?

Mom says she’s sorry, she has a new computer and no program on it to crop pictures…so you’ll have to use your imagination for awhile till she finds some software…

Anyway, after the big mean cat hissed at us…I mean after I took care of business with the big red cat …we headed back to the car, and since I wanted to practice my stair climbing we walked up the steps to the library and then down the ramp back to the car.  Just before the steps was a beautiful sculpture of two children reading.  Mom wanted me to sit next to them and smile for the camera.  But there was a pesky squeaky door at the top of the stairs that needed to be monitored by me.  Just to be sure.

I was a very good dog all the way home, another hour car ride.  I slept most of it, but I didn’t let on that I was asleep…so as not to give my Mom the satisfaction of thinking she wore me out.  I just nodded off with my head bobbing.

Mom says we might go on another adventure today.  Cause Dad’s not finished with his project under the floor.

Can we go NOW Mom?


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Wandering

Katie’s dad is doing something noisy in the basement while getting ready for an insulation contractor who is coming next week.  Katie’s not so good about remaining her normal rational self when there are strange noises coming from below her feet.  So we went on an adventure.

Katie will tell you about where we went and what we saw in another blog; what I wanted to share with you today is the happenstance of chance.  How sometimes just a bit of odd luck brings you to an interesting moment.

Because as Katie and I were wondering down a country road I happened to see this:

No matter that the temperature outside was 16 degrees F, the sky was gray, and there was a steady stream of cars going by only feet from her easel; here was a woman standing in a driveway of an abandoned home painting.

As soon as I could I turned around to go back.  As I approached her from the other direction I noticed the beautiful red barns across the road.  Obviously her inspiration.

I parked the car and walked back to her, letting her know I didn’t want to startle her, but could I please see what she was working on?  She giggled and said she wasn’t very good, had just started painting…but her work was very nice.  She was painting with oils, and I asked her how they worked in such cold weather.  She said it was a bit more difficult, the paint was a bit stiff, but that last weekend she had been painting out at Kensington (a park) when it was only 8 degrees.  EIGHT?  Are you kidding me?  You were out paining in 8 degree weather?  She talked about how the snow falling mixed in with the oil paints and caused some problems.  Yea. I bet!

Anyway I asked if I could take her picture, and she hesitantly said yes.  This is the first time I’ve ever asked a stranger if I could take their picture.  But I wanted this photo so bad.  She in her red beret, the gray day, the snow boots, the easel.

So here she is.

I left her after a bit more chatting.  Her feet were getting cold.  My ears were freezing.  Katie was waiting in the car.  Such an unexpected encounter –  I hope I meet her again somewhere.   I left with a smile on my face.

And I hope she was smiling too.


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Weekends with Katie

Last weekend Katie helped me pack up Christmas.

She wasn’t very comfortable with all these boxes on the sofa, especially since they made funny noises when I put ornaments in them.

But she was curious enough to come back and sit on the sofa and watch each time.  She didn’t, however, provide much advice about how to get all the ornaments packed away.

This weekend Katie helped me fill the bird feeders.

She thought this was a lot more fun.

Then we went out into the back yard to play.

That was the most fun of all.

She’s napping now.  All this work wears a Sheltie out.


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New photo challenge

Scott, over at his blog Views Infinitum, has challenged photographers to do a food photo shoot; to photograph food in a manner that makes your stomach growl with longing, your mouth water, your nose twitch in the hope of catching the scent.

I’ve taken pictures of food.  Usually when I’m somewhere eating something outside my comfort zone.  Like when I was in New York City eating Indian food at a neighborhood buffet.  I had no idea what anything was, but it all looked interesting.

Or the time I was eating at the American Indian museum in Washington DC.  I picked out several items, each from a different Indian tribe or region.  It didn’t necessarily go together, didn’t really make a meal, but it was all good!

Then again sometimes I take a picture of food as part of a story, eating a meal prepared by my brother…

…or breakfast at a diner with a friend.

But none of these photos look like a photo shoot that belongs in a food magazine.  So this is going to be a challenge.  Guess that’s why he calls it a “photo challenge” huh?

Anyone have any suggestions?


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Attention all Sheltie parents

For those of you with Shelties….Katie has been wondering what kind of food you’re feeding them, how much..and especially WHEN.  She gets a cup of her dry food about 12:30 in the afternoon…and she thinks it’s not nearly enough.  She is especially upset not to have anything first thing in the morning and just begs and begs.

So she’d like to know…is she being starved to death by an evil set of parents?  And how much should a 15″ (or so) Sheltie girl weigh anyway?


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Survivablity

We watched the news coming out of Tucson yesterday with horror.  That an elected official could be doing her job, making herself accessible to the people in her district and yet be in such danger is something I’d not wanted to think about.

But it needs to be thought about.

Did last years bitterly fought health care debates where ludicrous concepts were thrown about as truth fuel the gunman’s hate?  Maybe it was Arizona’s difficult  discussions about immigration or the acrimonious November elections?  Perhaps the 24/7 talking heads on television incited his rage.

Or maybe this young man is mentally ill.   Maybe he would have behaved the same whether or not our country was arguing so vehemently among itself.  Right now, so early in the investigation it’s impossible to know.

We do know this: Though U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords is likely to survive this assignation attempt, survivability is different than recovery.  And even as our hearts lifted at news she was following commands after surgery the reality is that her life has been changed forever.

And perhaps ours should change as well.  Maybe we should be less naive.  Maybe America can’t be as free as we’d like.  Maybe elected officials have to maintain more space, be more protected from regular folks.  Maybe they will have to ride around in  pope-mobiles, wave from distant windows, talk to us only from our TV.

I hope not; I want to be able to talk face-to-face with decision makers.  That’s who we Americans are, why this country is different from so many other places in the world.  But still.  Would a little more defensive protection have prevented the gunman from harming Gabrielle Giffords and the other 17 people killed or injured?  Would a security detail have been enough to save the  nine year old girl,  the federal judge, or the others  who died?  How much security is enough?  Or too much?

It’s obvious we have to change.  This is going to take much thought and debate and I hope it doesn’t turn into a partisan fight.  Meanwhile the best that we can offer today is our hopes and prayers that all the survivors make full recoveries.  And send deeply sad condolences to the families of those that did not.


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Blue

I’ve been feeling a little blue – I guess I’m having Christmas withdrawal.  I miss planning for company, fixing fancy meals, spending time with happy people.  I miss the pretty lights.  A lot.  In fact if I had my way all outdoor lights would stay up throughout the winter because they make me smile.  And during a long winter it never hurts to have a few extra sources of smile material.

Which is why, when I saw these lights upon parking at a middle school for band rehearsal this week, I let out a little gasp of pleasure.

A couple houses near the school have left their lights up.  Possibly just for me, though I suspect the people that live there enjoy the pretty lights just as much as I do.  Or maybe it was just too cold to take them all down.  No…let’s go with the enjoying the lights through the dark winter concept.

As for me, well today I’m packing up all our Christmas paraphernalia and the thought was making me sad.  Christmas is over, nothing to look forward to.  But then this came in the mail:

And aside from the girl wearing the bathing suit and sand, there’s a small word that makes my heart sing.  Can you see it now?

Yes!  This is the Title Nine SPRING catalog!  It’s not a garden catalog, there are no pictures of pretty plants and packets of seed.  But running shorts, tanks and bathing suits do almost the same thing to lift my spirits.

So I thought I’d share it with you.  Where spring catalogs go, good weather is sure to follow.

Still, I’m going to miss those lights.


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93 meets 2 weeks

Christmas weekend we had my husband’s extended family here for dinner.  More than thirty people, including 2 newborns and the oldest member of the family, the 93 year old aunt, arrived the day after Christmas to celebrate family.

After a big meal of roast beef, ham and all the fixings we sat around the living room in a big circle while the two oldest members of the family told stories about their history.  Most everyone, except the little kids playing with new toys,  listened and asked questions about what it was like to grow up on a cold, rural Minnesota farm more than 80 years ago.  Though my husband and I have heard many of these stories before most of the younger generation, those we only see once a year, have never heard them.  One of the young fathers videoed the discussion because we all realize as family members get older our chances to hear these stories first hand become more rare.

So this holiday weekend we prompted them – drawing out the stories that made us laugh, made us think, made us grateful for the lives we have now.  It was a magical evening, one we’re lucky to have shared.

And as I watched my husband’s aunt that evening I wondered what it felt like to be 93 and spending an evening with young people and their even younger children.  What does it feel like to have 93 years of history in your head?  Are you wistful when you hold a newborn?  Are you transported in time when you watch a toddler more entranced with the box than the new toy he unwrapped?  Are you memorizing new memories or are you overwhelmed with thoughts of times gone by?

When the youngsters became too tired to play and started to head out for home, they each gave the eldest among us a hug.  Four generations sitting in one room telling stories, laughing, talking, remembering.  A special evening during a special weekend with special people.  Priceless.