It's so hard to sit here at work and concentrate on the tasks at hand. I want to go home to comfort The Chief and bury our old friend, Spike. Erik says Spike didn't even know what was happening, he was just lying there and so all was peaceful and he was not alone. Nineteen years of good dogginess, enthusiasm for the day ahead and companionship in the night when my sons laid down their heads. RIP, Spike. We'll meet again at the Rainbow Bridge. Blessings abound. We were so fortunate to be able to give him a home.

Lots to be grateful for this weekend. Ceredwyn and I went to the Farmer's Market in Middlebury on Saturday morning.  I bought some Kirby cucumbers for pickling and some of the most gorgeous, firm white German garlic a girl could wish to pry from the papery depths of the head. Thick,solid chunks of garlic that are now bathed in vinegar, salt and water with dill. Four quarts and two pints of dill pickles. I haven't made this particular type of pickle in several years. All I needed was the proportions for the brine and I was off. A friend had given me some umbrella shaped dill heads. So fragrant, dill in the kitchen. Pickling made me think of the boys and lucky for me, I was able to speak with both boys over the weekend. It always makes me happy to hear from Beloved Firstborn and Boy Wonder. And these were some of their favorite pickles, second only to my Dilly Beans. Both of my kids sound as if they are doing well and I am grateful that they are making lives for them selves that seem to be satisfying them.

Two gallons of purple pod beans sit in the colander on the table. They need to be blanched and iced before they can go into the freezer. I didn't get to that today. Tomorrow night after work will be their time. So satisfying to plant small white kidney shaped seeds in the ground and see the spade shaped leaves sheltering purple blossoms and long slender beans.

Fresh food is so abundant right now. Apricots and peaches from Pennsylvania. Tomatoes and squash from local farmers. The last of this year's green sugar snap peas tossed into a gratin with zucchini,onions and tomatoes. Nasturtium blossoms and their spicy green leaves. Blueberries picked from the high bushes in the yard. It's good to be growing our food again. Certainly not all of it by any stretch of the imagination, but a goodly amount. And with the physical ailments I've dealt with over the last few years, it is really good to be able to move and do these simple things. I still need help from Erik, but I am doing more than I was capable of even a few years again.

Spike is failing. We're going to have the vet come to the house to euthanize him sometime in the next couple of weeks. He's always been carsick and I want to spare him that indignity if I can. He is blind and deaf and having trouble moving his hindquarters. He sleeps for long stretches but always seems to know when it's dinner time. Okay, so he paces for an hour or so before dinner in the afternoon, but for the most part he spends his time on his dog bed beneath the dining room table. There have been times when I wanted to put him down because he was being annoying in his doggy senility, but now that we're coming closer upon that time, I feel a wave of remorse for the times I thought those thoughts about him. Now I remember what a good dog he's been for the nineteen and one half years he's been part of our lives. He has always been good with the boys. Happy to sleep on Mason's bed. Lots of energy for playing in the yard with them. How come pets have to grow old?

Blessings abound

There are good things going on in life. The garden is on the edge of bursting forth with tasty goodness. The blueberries are ripening and have not been bothered by the local fowl and feathered friends. Cucumbers are blossoming, bee balm is red-headed and full of fire works and the day lilies seem particularly beautiful this year.

We have tether ball in the back yard now, the post firmly cemented in place with sakrete pole setting wonder cement. It's very freeing to have a ball to bash around after work has been completed.  We ate out under the stars the other night, feasting on grilled chicken and peaches. Nice breeze blowing, the faithful dog at our sides.

I've heard from my sons, which is very happy making. They are both in good places in their lives and I am grateful for them.

And now lunch is here. Blessings abound

It's been a busy while since I last posted. I've been avoiding the computer here at home because after the day at work I'm whipped and not wanting to be near the slowest computer in Ripton. Lately, work has been chaotic and harried. We've been short on providers and long on folks with a list of demands they'd like honored yesterday. Some days I can find a place in the work where I can say, yes, I helped someone. Other times, not so much.

I took a week off in July to go to Maine. The time was divided between spending time hoeing out the house my mother moved out of eighteen months ago and spending time rejuvenating on the beach and seeing friends. We spent one day at the house where I grew up after my dad retired in seventy. The grass was hip high on the lawn. The interior of the house is cluttered and littered. There was a dead mouse in one of the toilets. We bagged up two hundred pounds of trash. And there were plenty of things to recycle. It was overwhelming and soul sucking to be in the house that just filled up with useless stuff. I see a dumpster in that house's future.

To make matters even more complicated, we found out that the man my mom asked to winterize the house never drained the pipes. So there are three floors of broken pipes that poured water between the floors and down the ceilings.

My sister refused to go back the second day that we had planned to work. The two hundred pounds of trash is still bagged in the house. My sister has not gone back to put the trash out for the every other weekly garbage pickup. At least most of the smelly stuff is bagged up. I'm going back in September. I spoke with my sister today and basically we must screw our courage to the sticking place and get the job done.

Meanwhile, my mother becomes more frail. She still has delusions that she is in a relationship with the thirty seven year old she was crushing on last fall. They have a new game that they play. He lets her know that he's been by the house she's in now by leaving cigarette butts on the roadside next to the house and in the driveway. It gets her out for a walk every day. She's convinced that he has people helping him because there are at least six different brands of cigarettes she's found. The game hasn't gone on too long. She only has half a bread bag full of butts to show for the effort. She really believes this is happening. There are other things she told me that tells me she's a little off these days. I did my best to listen and not judge, but it made me sad to see her and sit with her and see the cigarette butts.

She's not cutting her hair because the last time it was cut, the stylist made it crooked. From the looks of the tub in the house, she's not bathing much, either, though she did not smell bad. I think she is starting to fall behind in her bills, though she will not let my sister help her. I hope I never put my children through this sort of thing.

I haven't been seeing friends much. Mostly I go to work and come home. I've been reclaiming the garden. We've harvested snow peas. My potatoes are doing well. The beans are blossoming. And the oregano threatens to overcome it all.

Blessings abound

For the record, the longest chin hair I ever plucked was two inches long and seemed to appear overnight on my right jawline. Now I just have a little cluster of whiskers in the same spot where my Nana used to grow hers. Don't I feel special? Erik asked me the other night if I thought I'd be growing a beard soon. Not so long as I have tweezers, I'm not.

Put that one on the list of things my children will have to do when they're stuck with me in my dottage: pluck mommy's chin hairs. The poor things.  Boy Wonder is always telling me he's getting me into a Canadian Nursing Home. I'm sure he's working stealthily at it.

I'm at work. It's been very busy the last two weeks and I should be looking at denials for Prior Authorizations for patients, but my heart is not in it. I want to go home, and I want to go home YESTERDAY. Truth be told,  I did go home yesterday but they keep on insisting on having me come back. And because the July Fourth holiday is on a Saturday we do not get an extra day. OH Well, going home now. Bye. Blessings abound

An Inquiry for the Perimenopausal Set:

What's the length of the longest hair you've ever plucked from your chin?

Just wondering.

I've picked the right Friday/Monday combination to take off. No space for patients and a provider out- that's more fun in triage than I want to have. I'll get a heaping helping of the work next Tuesday through Friday, but for now I am grateful to be out of there.

I'm off to Maine for a long weekend with a friend. I'm not going further up the coast to see my mother. Too stressful. So I'll huddle down in South Portland. Maybe take a blanket out of the car and go sit on the beach Sunday morning, watch the waves roll in before I head home. I'm pretty sure I'm coming home Sunday night so Monday I can play in the garden and have a leisurely day at home.  The garden is looking more and more like a garden and less and less like a miniature hay field. The first planting of beans has broken through the soil, primary leaves unfurling. I weeded amongst them yesterday, so happy to welcome their green flags to my world.  The potatoes are in desperate need of hilling. I had thought I might do it this morning before I left for Maine, but it's raining and I don't want to walk on the soil and compact it. So, Monday hilling it is.

Time for breakfast. Blessings abound

It's been a quiet weekend. I did that first whole body massage yesterday and have some stiff muscles to show for it. Today I worked in the garden. I planted patty pan yellow squash, beans, and zucchini.  I did some weeding in the onions. Even though it's supposed to rain this afternoon, I watered the garden.  The potatoes need more hilling and I just ran out of steam before I was able to get to it.   A glance to my right tells me the rain has started. Good. I need that penetration into the soil so seeds will germinate.  I've not done a good job of keeping the onions moist this week, so the rain is especially appreciated.

I've been thinking some more of the mom I wrote briefly about the other day. She is living my worst fear, the death of a child. I've been afraid of meeting up with her since her loss occurred. When I did encounter her, I think I handled it okay, but I am ashamed to say that part of me wanted to flee from her. I didn't flee, didn't shut down my heart.   I just hugged her and listened to her.  Afterwards, I felt as if something big  was dripping off my breasts, off my chest. A big hole. I thought perhaps I could figure something out about keeping that hole hidden, but I have nothing. Just a lot of wishes and a misplaced magic wand.

Blessings abound

What compassion I have to offer,
What empathy I possess,
Feels so small when holding a mother who has lost her child.

I'm at work on my lunch break and thought I would get a few minutes in with writing and reading the work of friends. It's a little overcast outside. Massachusetts and southern Vermont are getting the rain we are missing. If we don't receive some wetness from the sky, I will have to supplement with the hose. The onions like to stay moist.  I think the beans need a little more moisture to make germination happen. My peas are climbing the fence.  I am anxious to see cucumber seedlings push their way through the soil. I am anxious to leave work and start my weekend of garden gazing.

I'm giving a massage tomorrow.  It's been about six months since the last one I gave.  Other than a little hands on work with a couple of friends, done on the fly. I've got a trade going with Erika, who cuts my hair. She gave me a wonderful facial about a month ago.  Now it's my turn to reciprocate. I'm looking forward to the care, though lugging my table up her stairs will be a bit of a bear.   If my body does well with the work, I may consider doing a little more. It's an exciting possibility. For one, it means I've recovered my health enough to do the work. For two (for two?!?) it may give me a bit of hand's on caregiving that would be a welcome change from the primarily phone based work I do for my employer.

Blessings abound