Breaking Ground

They broke ground yesterday for the pole barn. Savor the details.

Sunday Mediation

I'm not a morning person but it's hot outside and I needed to finish up painting the iron gate on the farm. So I got up early and painted. What a beautiful day. There were so many birds singing on the farm and reasonably cool at 7:30 a.m. Savor the details.

Down on the Farm

A busy day of tiling on the farm. We've also widened the drive, making the ditches less steep so they are easier to mow.

Miss you Dad. Everyday.

It's been nearly three years since I've posted on this blog about Mom passing away. It's fitting with Father's Day coming up this Sunday I write a little about Dad's passing on Oct. 18, 2017. I guess I've just been waiting for the right time.

Dad laid in the hospital bed in the living room looking out the big picture window. The setup was all too familiar. Mom had wanted to die at home too, surrounded by us kids. Dad had stopped eating and was taking only small sips of water initially, then not at all. He lingered like this for three weeks. It was very difficult to watch.

But during these three weeks, Dad would surprise us with his wit. When my sister was going for a walk he once said to her, "Don't be gone long." Then we just all stopped in our tracks and starred at each other wondering if she should really go or if he was trying to tell us something. She did go on that walk and return. We learned he wouldn't be that obvious when it was his time to go.

Dad talked about wetting his whistle when he wanted a drink and I remember him trying to whistle but his mouth was just too dry and he didn't have the strength. At one time he was an amazing whistler and could imitate any bird and get them to call back to him. Today when I hear a singing bird, I always think of him and whisper to myself, "Hi Dad."

He told us, "You can't be in two places at once" when we talked about going to run an errand and also not wanting to leave him. We'd ask him if he needed anything. He never did...except late one evening after two weeks of no food, he asked for an Eskimo Pie. We didn't have any. We found a drumstick in the back of the freezer but that wasn't what he wanted. He was flustered we didn't know what he meant. As it turns out Eskimo Pies are what he often called Drumsticks. He just didn't want it.

When the young Hospice pastor came over and bent over dad to introduce himself, he said in a rather loud voice, "How are you doing?" Dad pulled away saying, "I'm not deaf!" The Hospice pastor apologized for assuming he was hard of hearing. His hearing remained bionic to the end.

He got us all to laugh when the caregiver said the girls were coming over to give him a (sponge) bath. His response was "Oh, shit." I think he thought they were putting him in the tub. I've never seen my dad take a bath.

He would get chatty in the early morning hours. This morning close to 2am, he whispered something barely audible to me. He softly said, "I just want you to know that I have to go and that may be a disappointment for you." I'm not sure what he meant...Go to the bathroom? Go? As in go to heaven?  I questioned him for more details but his words were few and he seemed to float in and out. He didn't respond. I could only assure him that he wasn't a disappointment to me in any way.

In his typical style, whenever someone came over to visit, he thanked them for coming by to see him which was followed by "You're a wonderful person." Always wanting to make other's feel good and smile. That was just dad. Neighbors came to see him. Friends and family too. He was always able to put on a brave face even in a middle of dying.

He would ultimately fool us all by slipping away when we were in the kitchen, outside and in the next room on the phone. No one predicted this was the time he would go but I believed this is how he wanted it. The Hospice nurse had just visited with him an hour or so before he passed away. There was no indication that he was in any distress or in any worse condition. His blood pressure was fine. Heart rate was good but "You just can't be in two places at once."

Mockingbird outside my office often greets me. "Hi Dad!" I whisper.

Unrepairable

This is the day I realized Mom was very sick. She repetitively handed me the tv remote and asked me to turn on the tv. Over and over again I'd explain that the tv wasn't working. Frustrated and confused about what was happening with her, I sat at the kitchen table and wept. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I realized that not only was I crying for Mom but for us. 

Everything Changes

My Mom passed away Saturday, August 1. She had Alzheimer's. I first noticed the forgetfulness and confusion three years ago. It's been a rough few years for everyone.

My sister and her daughter (who were visiting me in North Carolina) and I flew home. It turned out to be four days before she passed away. As difficult as it was, it was a gift to be there with her during this transitional time. I was struck by the most tender moments like my dad who stopped and talked to mom every time he passed by her bed. He told her he loved her over and over again. I have to believe that her dying was made easier on dad by her being at home and not in a hospital. Hospice made that possible and what a wonderful service they provide for terminally ill patients and their families.

Another touching moment was when my 10 year old niece was reading to my mom, "1001 Things It Means to be a Mom." Mom was a little restless that night and Sarah stopped reading and said, "What's that Grandma?" Then my niece turned to me and said, "Grandma says keep reading. It's awesome." It was more than I could take. I had to turn away.

Dad continues to have the at home caregivers 24/7. His situation hasn't changed. He's unable to see clearly so someone cooking for him and running around for and with him is what he needs. He won't go into a nursing home and I guess who can blame him. He naps a lot and seems to be in and out of the hospital more and more these days. I hope that's not a sign of what's to come.

Dad is 86 years old. And we all know our parent's will get old, but no one wants to see their decline. To me they'll always be the faithful, bickering, stubborn, generous folks who are firmed rooted on their land and refuse to change; living in their old farm house doing the simple things they loved to do. Day in and day out, always the same. Same store for groceries. Same bank for finance. Same church for masses. Bake the same pies. Cook the same foods.

Until your mom gets Alzheimer's. Or your dad is blind. Then pretty much everything changes.

1979 Kmart Snackbar

I walked across the street over lunch and bought a slurpee. I'm sucking on the straw, pushing it down into the last spoonful of slurpee, pulling it up and pushing it down to create little craters in the sugary cherry fluff and then it hits me. I'm immediately transported back to the year 1979. I'm sitting on the cool, red, slightly curved snack bar bench at Kmart with my mom. We are waiting on my dad to buy his fishing gear. Mom is smoking and drinking a Pepsi. It's a little dark in the back of the store and I can smell the stale popcorn. The memory is so vivid.

Our senses really are pretty incredible.

Savor the details.

The Cruel Curse

When I tell people my mom has Alzheimer's Disease they usually reply with, "My Dad did too. Or my Grandmother did too." Everyone seems to know someone who's lives has been turned upside down due to this disease. It is a cruel curse for so many families who are both blessed to have living parents and grandparents, yet cursed to see them sick.

My sister said to me quietly over the phone this weekend, "She's slipping away." I know this. We all know this. But to hear it spoken out loud seems to make it all that much more real. I wanted to whisper to her, "Shh…don't say that. She's just tired. She'll be better tomorrow."

The reality is tomorrow will bring new challenges for her. Challenges that won't be overcome. Problems that won't ever be resolved. It's truly heartbreaking.

We hired 24-hour in-home care for my parents back in December when I was home and Dad couldn't find his way out of their tiny bathroom. It is a bathroom he's had for 53 years. Something was wrong with him. He couldn't seem to walk well. He shuffled his feet taking tiny baby steps and was confused. Dad always loved to dance and since walking didn't seem to work, I placed put his hand on my hip, insisted that I lead and danced him to his chair in the living room. Ridiculous I know but it worked. After three days in the hospital, they still didn't have a good explanation. He had a mild case of the flu. His glucose level was a little high. That's it. No sign of stroke and mostly lot of shrugged shoulders and "he's old" talk.

This seems to be theme these days - no explanations and no solutions. One day at a time.

Lumpy Interoffice Mail

I'm always a little suspicious of lumpy interoffice mail….for good reason.

I once found a paper thin squirrel (roadkill) that was perfectly spread eagle. I was amused and horrified by it all at the same time. I immediately went up to our print shop, grabbed some rubber gloves. I pried that jewel off the asphalt and raced upstairs to our offices to show the student designer and laminate it (of course). I was waiting for the lamination machine to warm up when our pressman came back from his break. He bellowed, "who turned on my laminator?" I said, "I did. I just want to laminate this squirrel." And I proudly pulled that squirrel from the envelope with a gloved hand. He looked at my like I was CRAZY and said, "There's no way you are warming up that nasty squirrel by jamming it through my laminator. Do you know how badly that would smell?" Which of course, no I didn't – because ALL I could think of was preserving this find and sending to our boss via interoffice mail. The pressman left shaking his head and muttering something. He returned with two pieces of acetate and scotch tape and suggested I try to sandwich the squirrel between the clear plastic. "Genius," I thought and I was tickled that he was onboard with my scheme. 

The next day, the envelope arrived addressed to my boss (anonymously). I squealed with anticipation when I put it on his desk with the rest of his mail. Today was THE DAY! 

Always the snappy dresser yet always to work late, my boss finally arrived to the office. The usual good mornings, then he sat down to look at his mail. We were in an open configuration with my desk directly behind his. No dividers. I had a clear view. He picked up the envelope, bent the metal tabs back on the envelope and put his hand inside. He slid out the squirrel and starred at it. A moment of silence and then laughter. HUGE belly laughter. John was a man who turned bright red when he laughed. He was so red someone could have mistaken him for being very angry. He immediately pinned it to the bulletin board next to this desk and exclaimed it was the best interoffice gift he'd ever received.

Savor the details.

Strength of Character

Today I visited a friend and mentor dying in hospice care. It has been a day I'd like to both forget and remember for the rest of my life. Do not allow your own fear determine your strength of character. These are the days.

To the person who parked 4" from my driver's door…thank you for providing the lunch time entertainment. I'm sure it was hilarious for everyone in the restaurant to watch me first try to open the wide, single door on the roadster 4" to get in, not going to happen, go into the restaurant ask who owns the BMW - unsuccessful at finding the SUV's owner, go back out to the car, then try to get in the passenger side and side over the console only to not be able to maneuver my long legs to get them under the wheel, get a charlie horse, crawl back out as I spill my tea on the seat. Scratched me head and then realize I can pop the top, do that, reaching into the car, start it up and lower the windows. Then I step over the door and into the driver's seat. Ahh…success.


I am working on my contortion act. Next show in one week.

In the Dog House

I slept in the spare bedroom last night because I was tossing and turning. Diesel normally sleeps at my feet so when I moved rooms he wanted to move with me. But I don't normally allow the pets in the spare bedrooms so I shut him out. He cried and cried outside the door and then…Then, he plotted his revenue.

When I went to put my contacts in this morning, I couldn't find the contact case anywhere. The cabinet drawer where I had left the case last night was wide open but no contacts.

Diesel must have slinked into my bathroom, slide open the bathroom drawer, and while playing with the elastic hair bands, pulled out my contact case and flipped the case over the side/top of the drawer. It landed under the sink area of the cabinet. It took both of us 45 minutes to find my contacts.

I've seen Diesel open the kitchen cabinets and bedside table to get to his toys but I've never seen him open the bathroom drawers.

I may need baby locks.

Savor the details.

Sometimes it is the Little Things

This poster reminded me of my college days. I lived in a dorm for a year in college. It was quite an experience. I met some really wonderful people and I also saw the worst in people. That happens when you live with others; you really get to know them.

There was a girl named Mary who lived across the hall from me. She was super quiet and Korean. She always seemed sad, often times gazing down in our group girly talks. She didn't seem to want to engage with us. I've never met anyone that shy, or heck even Korean, or so that made me more determined to get to know her. After all, I moved into the dorm to get to know other people who's paths I wouldn't normally have crossed.

In a quiet moment one day after class, I found her studying in the hall study area and plunked down beside her. We started talking and though she seemed a little anxious at first, she soon opened up and her story unfolded.

A year ago her parent's died in a horrible car crash. Her older brother assumed parenting responsibilities, though she was nearly an adult and college bound. She's been in therapy and taking anti-depressants since the tragedy. I remember a tear streaming down her cheek as she told me her story. I was struck by her honestly and sadness. It was heartbreaking. I hugged her and said that, "my door was always open" (and usually it was because my crazy art projects seemed huge and hard to work in a such a tight space). So, drop in if she just wanted to hang out or anything.

It was week later when I was returning from my late afternoon class that I found Mary sitting in the hallway of our dorm. She was studying. "What's up? Why are you out here?"She looked up from the floor and once again I was struck by the sadness in her eyes.

"Sarah (her roommate) has Dave over."

"Yeah, so," I said.

"She's in our room with him and I can't get in."

"What? Are you serious?"

"She does this when she wants to be alone with him. She locks me out somehow. Pushes furniture against the door or something. I can't get in."

"Ok. Well...come in our room to study. I've got popcorn and it will be dinner time soon."

So, she came in and we hung out for the evening. I, unlike Mary, had a totally amazing roommate who was so much fun to be around. We all ended up having a great time that evening, despite the circumstances.

That year, my roommate and I ended up hanging out with Mary quite a bit and not just when she was locked out. She was quiet but had a wicked, sarcastic sense of humor when she felt like talking. And she never passed up the chance to be silly with me and my girlfriends.

Time passed by and I didn't return to dorm life the next year. And as so often happens, I lost track of Mary when I moved into an apartment. I graduated and ended up taking a job on that same campus I graduated from four years earlier.

One morning, I went down to the student cafeteria to get a cup of yogurt for breakfast. I was waiting in line to pay for it, when I felt someone lightly tap on my shoulder. I turned and to my surprise it was my friend Mary.

"Hi. Chris," she said.

"Mary! How are you?"

"Good."

She looked amazing. Completely gone was the sadness I had become accustomed to in her dark brown eyes. She seemed so happy. I mean she seemed to glow. She had put on some much needed weight and looked healthy too.

"You look great! What are you doing here?" I said.

"I'm in graduate school."

"That's awesome." I said.

We both paid for our food and sat down to catch up. She told me about her life and what was going on and I babbled on about mine. Then she said the one thing that I will never ever forget; the thing that struck me as life changing. She thanked me for being her friend when she desperately needed one. She said how much of a difference I had made in her life. She was doing much better physically and mentally and though there were still plenty of sad days, they were fewer and easier to cope with now.

I was dumbstruck once again by her honesty. Tears welled up in my eyes and I was at a lost for words. "You're welcome" was about all I could muster and that seemed especially lame. We talked for a little more and I realized that I needed to get back to work. So we hugged and said our goodbyes.

I think about her today and wonder where she is and how she is doing. I've not had any luck finding her on Facebook but I continue to look. I want to reconnect with her. I wonder if she's married and has a family of her own.

We both grew up a lot that year. We learned about others, sometimes the bad parts you'd rather not see, and how important it is to help others when you can. And I learned that sometimes it is the little things that occupy the biggest part of our hearts.

Savor the details.

Flyball • Flyball • Flyball

Susie coming back over the hurdle. She bounces over
these hurdles that are 10' apart in one big leap.

It's been too long since I've last posted. I've been busy with our new flyball team. If you don't know what flyball is go ahead and google it. Not many folks have seen it. It's a dog relay sport that was started in the 70s so it's a fairly new sport. It's not about the ball but how quickly your dog can travel down a 51' stretch of matting, turn on a box loaded with tennis balls, catch a ball and come back to you. It's a recall game really. A fast dog moves over this total 102' stretch of matting in less than 4 seconds. A really fast dog is closer to 3.5 seconds. Our dog, pictured here, averages 4.5 seconds.

Flyball is very different than agility or rally where you only have you or your dog to blame when things go south. With flyball, there are five other teammates working together to win the race (four dog handlers and a box loader) and because of this there's more room for errors.

We debuted in June at our first tournament. We were all a little nervous but things quickly smoothed out and boy did we have fun. As luck would have it, we placed first in our division. That was an amazing feeling. It took me a week to come off that buzz. Sure we have a few things to work on but overall we were all very proud of ourselves. We will compete next month in Athens, GA. I expect more laughs and good times from this dog crazy team.

More to come. Savor the details.

Life Goes On

My dad is losing his sight. My mom is losing her mind. I'm somewhere in between.

Sugar Coated Criticism

Pet peeve #4513: Criticism cloaked in a compliment. I am not a fan of this southern women's habit.

Love Letters to Strangers

I'm going to give this a try.

Independent Quitters

Working (AKA - Volunteering) for non-profits is a tough gig. People are often quick to criticize you, the hours are usually on the weekends, it's sometimes hard work that no one will help you with and it's thankless. It's hard to keep volunteers motivated.

I have gotten involved with several non-profits because I felt their mission aligned with what I believed in. It is disheartening when you find that's not exactly the case. Several of my friends have tossed in the towel and called it quits. Their skin had become thin and they were not willing to take on all the crap that comes with the work. Though, I don't know that you really "quit" a non-profit. It's not like you were getting paid to help. Quitting really means you are just not showing up anymore for meetings.

I understand their feelings but I don't agree with quitting. If you say you want to make a difference, and then aren't willing to toe the line when push comes to shove, are you really wanting to make a difference or is it only on your terms? What I've learned over the years is that life is all about the compromises. It's rarely about you wanting to do it your way or no way.

My friend's decision to quit is disappointing. They all have something to offer, yet are stubborn and feel they will continue on by themselves. I don't want to tell them that life doesn't work like that. There's strength in numbers and no one person can do what many together can accomplish. I wish they could put their differences aside, communicate better, and learn to compromise - or at least listen with open ears. No one wins when everyone works independently. Well, maybe their egos win.

Shame Posters

Have you seen the dog shame photos? They are funny.

Here are a few of my own.

Poster Series?

I've tossed around the idea of doing a poster series with my dog photography. I will need to come up with some quotes of my own if I get serious about this project.