There Is Hope After All

Inspirational song: A Little Good News (Anne Murray)

Things are really going my way today. I took the now teenaged Athena to the shelter, for the first time since before the football trip. We have been doing this since June, and it just isn't fun anymore. Okay, it was never fun, but she is having a harder time of traveling in the car and in the carrier. She yells at me the whole time the car is in motion. Sometimes I ask her whether she is singing along to the music, but most of the time I answer all the names she calls me with "I love you." What else can I tell her? I wouldn't be putting in all these months into playing by the foster rules if I wasn't so determined to keep her. And today, we finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. The news wasn't ideal--she had yet another test that came back "N/A." One of the vets said we've had so many of those in a row, she is willing to declare it over. We are scheduled for surgery Monday morning. As soon as that is over, I get to adopt her for real. Hooray!!

When we drove up to the house, I noticed that there was one tiny Shasta daisy blooming in a pot where I thought everything was dead. I carried Athena over, still in the carrier, and took a picture of it. And then I looked up and saw there were a few rusty mums still alive. I took a picture of them too. While I did that, I saw one tiny, pink dianthus. Another picture. From there, I saw Edmund's yellow rose blooming, and while standing there, I saw one orange Gerbera daisy. It felt like there were signs of life all over the yard. I had given up, but they hadn't give up on me. I may find my mojo after all, and get back out there and see what I can do to clean up the flower beds again.

I have been singularly unable to sit still all evening. The NaNoWriMo challenge starts at midnight, and I am ready to pick up a pen and dive in. Yes, I am starting the old fashioned way, with a pen and a spiral notebook. I am not typing the whole thing out on an iPad and my desktop computer is still in a heap on the floor of my never-used office. Eventually, I will need to drag it down here to type. I can't wait to start on the book. I'm going to begin right at midnight. I have decided it will be a semi-autobiographical ghost story, if there is such a thing. I can't wait to live the next thirty days. I hope I can win this challenge. I'm only competing against myself, but I'm a tough person to best.

Crafty

Inspirational song: The Kids Are Alright (The Who)

I'm gearing up to be up to my armpits in creative projects. NaNoWriMo starts Friday, and I have been lost in my own thoughts, working out my plots and plans. For the bulk of my drive home yesterday, I was discovering the entire story line like it already exists, and I'm just taking dictation by the characters. I like it when all I have to do is show up and be briefed on it. It is making me look forward to a month of writing nonstop, rather than question my sanity for even wanting to take on the challenge. I lost count of how many times I was tempted to cheat and start writing early. I'm so excited. This is Christmas Eve and high school graduation and buying a new car all wrapped up in one highly anticipated moment.

I need to start making my Halloween costume ASAP. I am not dressing up tomorrow. In fact, I'm going to be sitting in a dark house, watching scary movies, with my porch light off. I have decided I don't need a giant bowl of chocolate in arm's reach, and I don't want to stress out my dogs and cats by having the doorbell ring every few minutes. I have two black cats. I don't want to risk them sneaking out an open door and getting caught by someone who solemnly swears he or she is up to no good. I am going to a Saturday night grown up party instead. I got inspiration from my younger daughter as to which Internet sensation should be my costume, and I have decided that it will require a papier mâché headpiece. I ran up the street (so to speak) and got a styrofoam head to build it around. I suppose I should measure the circumference of my head to make sure it will fit. I hope the crew at Bonfire gets my costume. I'm not announcing it until after the party.

I made sure I made it back from the football trip by last night. I wanted to participate in my club's October craft night. We went to a paint-your-own-pottery shop. Yes, my house is full of my own pottery, and a few pieces friends of mine made and shared with me. But it has been years since I put anything together. I missed it, and was excited even to get to paint a piece of molded ceramic greenware. And it didn't hurt that I got to see a bunch of my friends while doing it. I had been gone for a week, and was already feeling removed from my circle here. So painting myself a rock and roll spoon rest, while enjoying a little wine and conversation, was exactly what I needed. And thank goodness I went. They reminded me that I have about two weeks to complete and submit our holiday sign for competition. (It is the size of a full sheet of plywood, and can be just about anything.) I hadn't noticed the calendar was zipping by. Wasn't it just August an hour ago? Time to start thinking about a bit of the red and green. 

Maybe I'll just repaint my fingernails while I try to think up a good holiday card theme.

 

Pride Rock

Inspirational song: Seasons in the Sun (Terry Jacks)

I don't want to write tonight. Not because I don't have anything to say, but because I want what I have to tell not to be true. I drove home this morning, picked up my dogs from "camp," and had been in the house less than five minutes when my phone rang. The man was calling, and I was ready to tell him all about how I was being swarmed with furry faces who missed me. But the sadness in his voice was palpable. His news was worse than I could have expected. His kitten Constance, the little highlander survivor from the first litter he cared for, passed away this morning. She had fallen awkwardly out of a tree last week, and given herself a hernia. While she was having it surgically repaired, she was spayed at the same time (so she only had to go under anesthesia the one time). Without a necropsy, there's no way to know whether she developed a complication from the surgery, or picked up something else unrelated. She hadn't been acting herself since the accident. Whatever happened, it is a crushing heartache for my man. He has infinite love for the creatures who share our planet, and he easily gets attached to those who share our lives, even for a short time. He was deeply invested emotionally with Constance. He promised that he was going to have his housekeeper's son adopt her, but I secretly suspected he was going to end up bringing her home with him. I was going to let him, I had decided. Now her life has been cut tragically short, and my man is hurting in a way I can totally understand, but can do almost nothing to comfort from such a huge distance away. This was so unexpected, and I wish I could be there for him in person.

During his travels, someone told my man about a figure from the Sunni tradition who gained the name Abu Hurayrah, which translates to "father of the kitten." This man kept the mosque for Muhammad, and was said to care for all the stray cats in the vicinity. While my man was raising two litters of kittens, and putting out food for some strays he couldn't catch, he said they were going to have to give him that nickname as well. There's a saying that you can judge a man by what his cat thinks of him. My kitten daddy must be one amazing man.

Some of today's photos will be repeats, but I think today will be a retrospective dedicated to Constance. I'll get back to other things tomorrow. If you can, spare a little love for my soft-hearted man tonight.

Dash Away, Dash Away

Inspirational song: Traveling Man (Ricky Nelson)

Now, in 2013, I am completely amazed when I talk to people who rarely fly, and I am flabbergasted when I meet adults who have never done it once. But I find them fairly often. In this modern time, there are still earthbound people who don't take to the skies. Am I looking at this the wrong way? Am I the unusual one? I have spanned most of the economic scale, from barely scraping by (or more accurately, losing ground every month) to being in a position of ease. All along the way, up and down (and we have rolled both directions on the ladder over the years), I have always lived a fairly mobile life. I have mentioned often that we are nomads, moving every few years. But more than that, we MOVED. We traveled. We flew, we drove, we got out and explored. I can't imagine removing one of my getaway methods, for any reason. I'm not afraid of flying, and I know that it is sometimes economically advantageous to fly versus drive (when you calculate gas, time, hotels, food, etc). 

There are great advantages to living a life in motion. It makes for an adaptable personality and a flexible mind. I am glad my own kids were raised with this kind of lifestyle. Any one of us can be dropped into a strange town anywhere in the country, and we can find our way around, or out of that town. I was thinking this today, as I first took an unfamiliar route to DIA (and barely made my flight because of unexpected detours), and then another unfamiliar route trying to find my way out of Atlanta. I was just putting my training to good use.

I did not plan well on the travel arrangements for this trip. I knew I was driving to my father's surprise party and flying from there. But somehow, by the time I got to the step of booking my return flight, all good sense evaporated. I chose a mid-afternoon return, arriving here at around seven thirty. I didn't seem to remember that I was flying into a major hub with a giant park and ride to traverse, a four to five hour drive from my house. I planned as if I was landing at the regional airport that is a ten to fifteen minute drive away from my front door. Thankfully, wiser heads intervened, and they convinced me to find a room for the night, partway through the drive. So now I find myself in a lovely hotel room, relaxed after a trip to the hot tub (I packed with optimism), and dreaming of a full breakfast that I don't have to cook. My alternate reality was going to be driving along dark interstates until three tomorrow morning, drinking truck stop coffee, and hoping to find a clean rest stop bathroom. This is the better way to travel. 

Having spent the majority of the day in motion, I will have to see what photos were left over from the weekend, that didn't make it in before now. On Jeopardy, this would be referred to as "potpourri."

Uninvited Guest

Inspirational song: You've Got a Friend in Me (Randy Newman)

I'm not gonna lie, it was hard to build up a head of steam to get moving this morning. I spent the first two days of this trip trying to pack in all the fun and excitement I could. I had goals for today, and accomplished only about 3/4 each of two of them. And still I am ready to turn in by 9 in the evening, worn out from another full day. It's a good thing I have no difficulty sleeping on airplanes. Tomorrow is going to be a blur.

I had wanted to drive around in the mountains a little, maybe only going over the first ridge, to look for the late season aspen color. We ended up mostly driving through neighborhoods, and while the trees were spectacular, I felt awkward about taking pictures in strangers' yards, and I dislike trying to get a car stopped in traffic when I suddenly see something I'd like to photograph. I let my daughter take the wheel, and I got a few shots off while we drove around, but not as much as I expected to. I did find myself getting very excited for a few years from now, when we finally settle down and come back to live somewhere in this neck of the woods, in a forever house. I drove past a handful of properties out in the county that were for sale, and I could totally live out there. The views of the front range are beautiful from just a few miles out. And if we were willing to live outside of Boulder county, I might steer us somewhere we could catch views like are available on Dillon Road, heading west. I guess I'm going to have to pick up a camera with a panorama setting one of these days. You can't take it all in with just one point and click. It's just breathtaking, especially at this time of year, with snow just starting to grace the higher peaks, and all the gold and orange and crimson in the foreground.

After stopping at a fabulous local bakery (that I will visit again in the future), the girls and I did drive a little up one of the canyons that was badly damaged in the flood. It was difficult to look at how much was still so torn up. Out of respect for the privacy of the families, I tried not to take pictures of homes that had been partially washed away, or were still crooked and canted with a foot of dried mud throughout. But some outbuildings and remnants do appear in today's pictures. It is impossible to drive past these places and not feel your stomach drop, and feel intense sadness for the residents whose lives were disrupted in the floods. To see it on tv creates distance, which allows for some numbness to the situation. To get up close and personal with the mud and the washed out roads and missing structures makes it all so much more real. It's like the pain and fear are still imprinted on the land, like historical site markers. It's spelled out for anyone to recognize.

The flood has been my daughters' reality for a month and a half, and from a parental and property standpoint, mine as well. We were able to compartmentalize and put it behind us as we drove back to town. We came home and immediately set upon the pumpkins, carving for Halloween. My future son in law had never carved one before, and his first crack at it was as good as anyone who had been doing it for years. My daughter made two, one an apparently obvious Minecraft reference. (I don't play it, but I have a general understanding.) She put it in the crook of a tree, and lit a candle in it while we finished the others. As I tried to carve a dimensional Buddha face in mine, I looked up to see we had a guest. He came close to see what I was doing, backed off when the dog barked, checked out the Creeper pumpkin in the tree, and then proceeded to eat the tree pumpkin and all the seeds he could steal from right next to me. He seemed entirely content to pose for dozens of photographs. My daughter's fiancé announced that he is to be referred to as Gaius. And so he shall.

And My Hopes Were Dashed

Inspirational song: Glory Days (Bruce Springsteen)

I'm tired, I'm cold, and I yelled myself hoarse. I have a scared little dog in my lap, and just had a hot toddy delivered to me to treat the sore throat and chill. I would like to say that my team won, but alas, such is not the case. The first half of the game was terrific. It went downhill after the band was done. We still are a long way from the consistently winning teams I remember. But I am a die hard fan. I love my school and remain loyal. I will be back another day, for another game next year. But for now, it's nice to be home in the heat, not dancing to stay warm in the stadium of sadness.

This morning was a sharp contrast to how the day ended. The sun was so bright, and the weather was unbeatable. We had breakfast with my sister in law at a restaurant in a building that was originally a post office a hundred years ago. From there, we went to a local farm to buy carving pumpkins, and we ended up filling the trunk with enough squash and heirloom pumpkins to last the girls all winter. We are so excited to bake with these gorgeous gourds. I hope a few will be left when I come back this way in a few months. I had almost as much fun selecting them and photographing them as I would eating them. The woman working at the farm stand certainly earned our business. She gave us a twenty minute lesson on all the varieties they grew and what each is good for. We ended up spending over a hundred dollars on everything. The girls had better cook it all.

I am planning on taking the girls on a trip up in the mountains in the morning, just for the sake of pictures of the beautiful scenery. It's our last chance to really spend time together, and I want to use it wisely.

The Fan I Will Be

Inspirational song: Crazy Train (Ozzy Osbourne)

The night before home games at the University of Colorado, the football team, dance line, and my dear Golden Buffalo Marching Band assemble on the pedestrian mall downtown, and host a pep rally referred to as the Buffalo Stampede. This tradition started after I graduated, so I didn't get to do this myself. I wish we had done it. The party atmosphere along the four blocks of the mall it covers is magical. I tend to shy away from festivals generally, but on stampede nights, I don't mind the crowds one bit. I dance and sing the fight songs unselfconsciously, and take pictures like the most stereotypical of tourists. There might have been a time, when I was 18 or 19 and overly concerned with being cool, that I found the behavior of the alumni and band boosters to be embarrassing. Now I totally get it. I am totally embracing my crazy fan future. Yesterday, when we were buying out that Dillard's, I bought a top that was essentially a black sequined poncho with gold braid trim. It's the kind of thing a fifty-something alumna wears to the banquets during bowl games. I am going to hold on to this thing until that is my reality (which means I have to wait until I am in my fifties, and the team actually makes it to a bowl game again, but the poncho was worth the eleven dollars I paid for it, to hang onto it in anticipation.)

Tonight I saw the entire range of fans, from the most adorable of toddlers to the oldest die hard faithful. There were lots of children on parents' shoulders, a couple waving toy instruments. One little boy had a plastic saxophone, and he held it to his face like he was really playing it, and he swung it around, up and down, just like the band members do during Glory or the Tuba Cheer. In doing it, he was cuter than any other kid on the mall. My older daughter has talked about a pair of our oldest fans, twin sisters in their 90s who attend every single event in matching outfits. I have been trying to remember whether I was aware of them years ago when I was in the band. I can imagine I was, but I may be making it up. We saw them on the mall tonight. When I got back to the house this evening, I told my host I saw them, and I declared that they are the epitome of the fan I choose to become. She promised she will be right there with me. We may not be twins, but we resemble each other enough that by that age, no one will know we are from different mothers. I cannot wait.

The band starts the rally in front of the courthouse, and then the team booster who drives an antique fire engine painted black and gold leads the parade down the mall a block at a time. The team passed out black and gold mardi gras beads and high-fived those of us standing close by. The dance line came next, and then the band brought up the rear. My older daughter is only one year removed from her marching days, and no less than ten current band members broke ranks to hug her as they marched past. I felt the spillover love by just standing next to her. It was special to watch.

Tomorrow I get to watch the game with my own kids, and two of my friends with small children (two six year olds and an eight year old). I intend to be that goofy fan that treats homecoming like it's Christmas and Fourth of July and Halloween all in one, so they're not bored. They might be embarrassed, but that will just mean I'm doing my job right as the silly old lady fan.

 

Sisters in Arms

Inspirational song: Best Friend (Harry Nilsson)

As girls' days go, today was a spectacular one. I had hoped last night to make it to town in time to get a pedicure, since it has been ages since I had one, and I was developing a severe set of troll feet. I failed to make it to where I needed to be in good time, so I postponed the trip to the nail salon until this morning. By doing so, I was able to bring along three of my favorite people: my daughters and my hotelier. My friend who lets me crash at her house has found the absolute best nail salon on the Front Range, and she was happy to spend part of her day off with me getting pampered. My older daughter had never gotten a pedicure, and my younger had only experienced it once in high school with a friend. After the morning we had, I have confidence that this will become a new mom's-in-town tradition.

After a detour to get coffees, we descended upon a Dillard's that was going out of business, to strip it like a trio of locusts (my friend had to leave us for an appointment). I thought we would be there maybe an hour. I think we left over three hours after we arrived. I alone tried on well more than three dozen outfits, and the girls were right there with me. I left with some tops, skirts, and two little black dresses. (Hm, maybe "Little Black Dress" should have been today's song...) My older daughter tried on one dress that had a black sweetheart top and a confection of hot pink tuille with sparkles for a skirt. She laughed and demanded to know where this was back when she was searching for prom dresses years ago. And the very next dress she modeled for us was the most beautiful turquoise and gold strapless gown.We all saw the parallel between it and the Princess Jasmine Halloween costume I made her when she was three, back in my costume designer days. It was her absolute favorite thing ever, and she wore it for months, repeatedly telling us all about the Aladdin she saw while trick-or-treating at the mall. Here she was, my little Princess Jasmine all grown up. Of course she bought the dress. I would not have let her back in the car without it.

My older daughter peeled off from the group to work, and then we were just two. We ate at an English pub, and on the way to pick up dinner for my older daughter, the younger showed me an app that impressed the hell out of me. I didn't think I would seriously want to promote something like this, but I can't help myself. You all should try this and see for yourselves. It was called Akinator, and it is a little genie who guesses the character you think of. We tried to come up with seriously obscure references, and it got them. Fairly quickly on mine, I must admit. From questions like "is your character blonde haired," or "is your character a superhero," it easily figured out I was thinking of Anne of Green Gables, Buckaroo Bonzai, Sweetums the Muppet, Bubble de Vere from Little Britain, and Steve Hogarth of Marillion. I am in awe of this programmer's ability. Good show.

I was starting to whine about the lack of pretty fall colors back home. I made it out west in time to see some beautiful leaves. My soul has been refreshed. And going an entire day without a single argument was refreshing as well.