The Return of the Waterfowl

Sandhill Cranes

one of the coolest things about where we live is that, in winter when local streams and ponds dry up, our neighborhood lake becomes the watering hole for scores of birds. we get ducks, geese, egrets, ibis, and sandhill cranes. it's like living in an animal park.

the sandhill cranes are amazing. first, they're huge. second, they do this dance where they hop and flutter. third, they have a really loud call which sounds like approaching pterodactyls.

so, that's the good news. in other news, (which i have not yet decided to be neither good nor bad) Grannie has been discharged from home health and recommended for hospice.

"but, " you may ask, "what does this all mean?" to which i would reply, "how the hell should i know?" we're meeting with the intake nurse this week. from what we've been told we will receive all the same services. still, hospice. it just has such dread connotations.

let's face it. none of us will live forever. from the first day she came to live with us i have reminded myself that she could be gone any morning, any afternoon, any moment. when i'm honest with myself i admit that in just two short years she has become a withered shadow of her former self.

that said, i have spent a lifetime creating for myself a rainbow-colored, Disney-esque world of my own. i'm not frequently honest with myself and i'm having a hard time creating a happy ending to this tale. in my heart i believe she's only stayed on Earth this long to make sure i'm okay. maybe the happy ending is her leaving her infirmities behind knowing that i'm going to be okay.

i'll share with you what i've learned. Don't disregard the small pleasures. Enjoy your independence because when its gone, you have little left. Laughter and love are the best parts of every day. And, that childhood you cherish is only a short lifetime away but your teens and twenties (for better or worse) are gone forever. 

The Greatest Lesson I've Never Learned

one Christmas when i was little -- i guess about eight or nine years old -- my great-grandmother gave me a toy xylophone. it was white with multi-color keys and little wheels. it came with a little wooden mallet or you could pull it along and hidden mallets would strike the keys as it rolled.  i was DISGUSTED! to my oh-so-grown-up eight year old self, this was a baby's toy.

of course i did not say that! by eight i was fully aware that saying anything ungrateful at Christmas, much less to my great-grandmother, would result in something other than those keys getting hit. i just muttered "Thank You" and set it aside to be ignored. dutifully my mother packed it up and brought it home.

but, the thing is -- i played with that little xylophone for yeeeeeaaars. i loved the colors of the metal keys even as they wore away over the years. i loved the sound it made when i drug the mallet (or a rock or a key or whatever was nearby) across the tiny keys or pulled it along. even today, should i stumble across one i can't resist the simple joy of tapping out little tunes on it.

the lesson here is that i thought i knew what i wanted and nothing about that little toy fit my expectations. it was simple, colorful, required creativity and imagination, and could hold my attention without the very first electronic blip or blink. but, of course, it took years for me to learn to appreciate all those things. i still don't know that i've completely learned the lesson.

we all think we know what we want. we have long lists of wants and needs stored in our heads lying in wait just to be asked. we look at things.. at places.. at people.. and make quick judgments about their worth. in Our Infinite Arrogance, we think we know what we want.

if we're very lucky, we're afforded the chance to learn how wrong we are.

years later my mother intended to sell my xylophone in a garage sale. horrified i pulled it from the To Be Sold box. she gave me that look of tired disdain (do they teach that look?) and said, "you never even wanted that thing." it was then i realized  that she was right! (i didn't say that of course.) while it now seemed in-con-ceivable to me to lose it, i clearly remembered wanting nothing to do with it just a few Christmas Eve's ago.

look, i could quote example after example, but think about it: how many times have you received something that was nothing like what you "wanted" only to discover how wrong you had been all along? Life's greatest surprises are the ones we experience at our own expense.

you know i still have to learn this everyday. i still think i want the white chocolate mocha latte until i get the salted caramel espresso by mistake. but i've learned to smile whenever Life gives me the nudge and the wink. *sigh* i'll probably never learn. i kinda hope not! i've learned to really love the learning process.

The Dog Urine Rebellion & The Day I Ran

once upon a time in my life, urine was not even a subject of consideration. now my life seems semi-obsessed with it. not only do i spend much of my days wondering if Grannie needs to go to the bathroom or if she's gone and i need to change her undergarment -- i'm now on Puddle Patrol.

The rare photo of Rico (distracted i believe by the promise of cheese)

we have two little dogs, Coco & Rico. Rico has always been the special child. he's high-strung, skittish, timid and yet overly aggressive if he feels threatened. fine, fine. but lately, he insists on peeing in the house. perhaps it's the weather (he's scared of storms and the wind) or perhaps its a bladder problem (trip to the vet: on the list.), but whatever the case, it's a problem.

AND he's a freaking ninja. just this morning Russ took both dogs out and, dutifully, Coco immediately handled her business. Rico instead ate some grass. Russ came in the bedroom and updated me -- so far, no "accidents" -- while Coco tried her best to cojoin herself to me. then Rico ran in and tried to lick off my nose.

as we headed to the kitchen i discovered that, during our brief two-minute interval, Rico had peed on the leg of the dining room table. i had noticed he was late to join us. the tip off should've been him yelling "be right with you" from the other room.

to make matters worse, now Coco is going in the house. i mean, i guess i see her side of things. when i caught her the other day she looked at me like, "what? so i have to hold it and go outside in the rain and he can just piss in the floor anytime he feels like it??" at which point i just shrugged and went to get the paper towels.

in other news, i ran the other day. if you know me, you understand how this would be newsworthy. i have often said, "if you see me run past you, you should drop whatever you're doing and try to outrun me. trust me, either you don't want to face whatever is after me or you damn well want to beat me to whatever i'm running towards."

truth is, i wondered if i still could. even as a child i thought adults looked funny running. now i understand. when you're five foot ten and 250 plus pounds, once you start to run you start to wonder how you're going to stop.

i decided i would attempt a short sprint. the first issue was when and where could i do this. i approached it much as i would streaking -- short distance, quickly back inside, and with as few spectators as possible. i settled on mid-afternoon. (one thing about summer in the South is in the afternoons outside is more desolate than the middle of the night.)

so i sauntered casually down to the mailbox, checked left and right to make sure there was no one around, and took off running down the street. i must have run 20 feet! i stopped to consider the experience.

as you can probably imagine, the first thing i did was to collapse in the front yard. i lay there, attempting to recapture the years of my life i had just lost, breathing hard, and listening as my rational brain tried to explain to my angry heart and lungs why i felt the need to do this.

let's just say this, if fight or flight are my only options, i better whup ass like a mother fucker.