This Painting Thing

Is an obsession.  A call from the moment I awaken.  More powerful than food, more compelling than the need to return phone calls, clean the house, or read.  The paint and blank canvas are a sirens’ call I can’t ignore.Image

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Painting Again; ‘Embraced’

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Grieving activities.

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My Dog Died

This week was both Lulus’ birthday and death day.  It was awful.  I read all these wonderful funny uplifting posts around here, but truthfully I’m drowning in sorrow right now, and I’m pretty sure no one reads what I post anyway, so I’m going to tell Lulus’ story.

Lulu was my puppy from 8 weeks old.  She arrived in from MN to NH at 8:00PM and I picked her up at the airport.  Found her on the Internet which is a pretty bad way to find a puppy, but I didn’t know that.  Yet.

Anyway that doesn’t really matter because the only really thing wrong with Lulu was that she was dumb.  Seriously dumb, as in dumber than a box of hammers.  I’ve lived with a lot of dog people in my days, and Lulu was the only one who couldn’t master basic stuff like sit, or heel.

 She had one mode on the

leash: barge ahead until she did her business, and then mosey along home sniffing every blade of grass along the way.  Sniff every stone, bug, and leaf.  She liked to sniff, I’ll give her love for exploring her world lots of points for a nature loving dog.

The day after her 9th birthday Lulu had some trouble breathing.  I called the vet, and she died in the car on the drive there.  I am devastated.  On the one hand I keep thinking at least she didn’t linger and suffer.  And in the other, I keep thinking, just yesterday she was fine.  How can she be gone?

What will I miss most about you dear Lulu?  Your soft coat?  Your way of climbing onto my lap whenever I sat down to relax?  Now little Ziggy, she never does that.  She curls up against my leg, but wouldn’t dream of using me for a chair like you did… And your amazingly goofy face!  Will I keep seeing that huge head of your, with your one black ear, and those wall-eyes, staring kind of at me like a lizard?  Wiggling your entire body every time I return from even a five minute absence?  

I keep seeing you and hearing you everywhere and I have decided some hard things.  That I’m too old to suffer like this anymore.  When Ziggy, who is 6 1/2, joins you in Pet Heaven to wait for me, I’m not going to adopt anymore dogs or puppies or animals at all.  I can’t stand this pain.  The few people I’ve told don’t believe me, but I’m at the end of my road here.  It’s a huge investment and I can’t afford it.  So I’ll just live with my memories, and little Ziggy, as long as she stays here, and that’s it.

Thank you Lulu.  For all your unconditional love.  For never having had a grumpy moment in your life, an unkind thought or deed.  For being the best example of a constant companion I could hope for.  Blessings on your journey.

 

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Pricilla Leaves

Wednesday morning was like every Wednesday morning. Woke up late. Stiff as a board. Climbed over Ziggy the bulldog to get to the bathroom, after putting off getting out of bed as long as possible. Feh. Getting older bites the big one.

Knew the security buzzer would go off by 1:00PM sharp. It was still Wednesday. I really wanted to go back to sleep so badly, but knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Now it was 1:15pm, and I started to get worried. Pricilla was never late. By 1:30PM My mind was going through the dreaded possibilities. She tripped in the shower and was unconscious. Had a car crash and was wrapped around a telephone pole.

One of her beloved cats had died. She was having seizures. Her baulky furnace exploded. She froze because the damned furnace finally gave up.

No phone call from her. No text. She was a great and devoted texter, and would text me if she was going to be 5″ late.

Finally I called the agency she worked for, and asked to speak with her cousin, whom ran the place. I was told she was on the other line, but would call me back. I said, Please, as soon as possible. This is urgent.

An hour later B called me back. Pricilla had taken an emergency leave of absence for at least three months. Maybe forever. Not to worry, she have another CNA for me by Friday or at the latest Monday.

No one seems to get my point. Pricilla and I had what I thought was a relationship. I’m missing her and angry with her at the same time. Why couldn’t she have told me she wasn’t coming back? Im feeling abandoned. By a woman who came to my home three times a week for more than a year. We laughed together everyday, and more rarely, shared tears &

confidences.

So my trust has been shattered and I’m rethinking what it means to have a private duty nurse in my life. I can’t do without one, but just how ‘close’ do I become to the next one?

I mean, not to say goodbye to me really hurt.

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My only Child, Rebecca Jane

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This lovely lady is my only child, Rebecca. I’m not including her last name for privacy’s sake. She is also the mama of Esme Morgan & Baya Juliette ( aren’t those names amazing ?). I refer to her as “mama”, because that is what the twins still call her- and sometimes me as well. How sweet is that? I discourage them from calling me mama because it seems to upset my daughter. So I remind them who is who.

This year they are in public school for the the first time and seem to be thriving in this new environment. It is also the first time they aren’t together in the same classroom and they are thrilled about it. Turns out they had a large case of of sibling rivalry brewing & these changes were just wha
t they needed. Rebecca is so happy with her net found household peace and quiet. It is working out for every one.

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My Cowboy Boots

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When I was a young teenager I used to go trail riding almost every Saturday with my first best friend Debbie. I loved this activity like no other. We rode for an hour through the cool woods, enjoying ourselves immensely. Without Debbie this couldn’t have happened because my Mother worked every Sat. It was Debbie’s mom who brought us to the stables, and picked us up about an hour later. We both loved this event, and Debbie patiently waited for me until all my chores were done. I used my own money to pay earned from babysitting or illegally working underage at my parents best friends bakery. At the bakery my job was washing huge cookie sheets- nearly bigger than I was. My brother worked in the back of the bakery stuffing donuts with cream, my favorites, and every now and then, he’d sneak a warm one out to me. It was heavenly.

Back to riding, and a brief commentary on my luck. My mother used to say to me, Faye, if it weren’t for bad luck you’d have no luck at all. My life has proven her point only too well.

One tragic day after a couple summers of joyous riding with Debbie, her horse, for no apparent reason, swung his giant head around and bit her on the chest. Her mom had just arrived to take us home, but instead we went to the hospital, were poor Debbie was admitted after getting some stitches. She had to stay for IV fluids. And never rode horseback again. It was sad that she got hurt, but terrible that I also couldn’t ride again because I had no way to get to the stables.

Now I’m 60 something and I noticed that were we bring my granddaughters to ride on ponies also has horses to rent for trail riding. I’m not going to ask my daughter to take me there because it takes a long time: I’m going to ask my CNA, who should start coming to take of me in a couple of weeks. I think I can get away with this request under my need for exercise. Clever aren’t I???

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