Cluck and Tweet

sharing the whole big pie

  Isn't is funny how the world works?

I mean, how today's world works.  It's pretty amazing.  The internet (of which I did NOT invent) has changed us.

  And how we "know" each other...how we find each other in the big Big BIG world.  We can find our people, our people that do not share our DNA or weird cowlicks.  You know, people that get you. People that you connect with as soon as you begin reading their words.  Even if you've never hear the tones of their speech, you've heard their "voice".  Even if our people live hundreds, if not thousands of miles away.  Even if a large expanse of water separates them.

  That's amazing.

  So, here I am writing a little post with some of my people. 

 Alison and Kate.

  People I've never shared a meal with nor have I knocked on their front door with a casserole pie.  I have never sat on their porches with a glass of wine or sent them home with soup or muffins.  But, I feel like I have.  These chicks are my people, my peeps.
  I've teared up and cried with them from more than one of their stories and I've laughed out loud more times than I can count.  

The world is funny in how it works. And it's amazing.  In this big world of ours we can find our people and the world becomes smaller.  And tighter.  And better.  What's not to like about that?

  It seems to work best when we each find our people.  And when you do, hold on to them and bring pie. 

 So, if you hear knock on your door someday soon and weren't expecting company, just grab the forks.  I'll bring the pie.

-deborah

glad to be here:)

Old Age Is Not for Sissies

 

Today I went to visit my mom at the hospice house where's she's been since December after my dad spent two consecutive nights in the emergency room for what turned out to be stress related symptoms.  It's a lovely spot (the hospice house, not the emergency room), kind of French country provincial with a beautiful new solarium and green and wine and gold colors. I could probably live there.  Plus, they have good food. 

I brought my camera to take pictures of Mom's new surroundings and to update how she's doing.    

But first I lost my camera.  And I had to run back to the beach where we had been earlier.  And I found it on the rocks where Sam said I would find it.   It is quite annoying being married to someone who is often right.  I would not recommend it.

I also would not recommend standing next to anyone (who shall remain nameless) who likes to throw snowballs.  Because chances are that person will be the target for someone else. 

   

 And I would recommend not using the "snow" setting on your camera.  Unless you like a dreamy, ethereal feel to your photos.  And the feeling that your eyes aren't focusing correctly.

Once I arrived at the hospice house I greeted my mom and told her who I was.   She gets the most delighted smile on her face when she greets me.  And she usually exclaims, "OH!" like I'm just the person she wanted to see.  And then she gets distracted by other conversations going on around us.  Much like a teenager texting while talking to you.  But not as rude since she has dementia and teenagers just have hormones.  

We talked a little.  Really, I talked.  About her cats when she was young.  How every one of them was named Billy.  Regardless of gender.  She laughed at that. Then I asked where Dorothy was and the women who work there said she was "gone." 

Dorothy never smiled.  She couldn't feed herself.  She had no affect whatsoever. And one day she was sitting next to my mom and my mom tried communicating with her in that very uncommunicative way she has; a mixture of recognizable words and syllables that make no sense mixed with forgetful pauses.  Then my mom reached out her hand toward Dorothy.  And Dorothy took her hand.  And they sat there.  Holding hands.  That part of my mom who consoled and took care of others emerged in this setting.  After that the two of them often sat and held hands.

I set my camera on the table and worked up different ideas of how to take my mom's picture.  I reached for it once or twice.  Took the lens cap off even.  And then I couldn't do it.  I couldn't take her picture.  I don't quite know why.  Perhaps it's because it wouldn't show the woman who takes care of others, who held Dorothy's hand.  

I don't know where Dorothy went.  

I was afraid to ask.

 

 

Sheesh!

This is a post that just is here to get the ball rolling, to get over that invisible cliff of not writing.  At least not writing anything other than jewelry descriptions for my Etsy shop. They're tougher than you might think.  Let me tell you. Example:

Black Hills ... Lampwork and Brass Bracelet

Description

Two years ago we embarked on a trip out to Big Sky, Montana. In April. Because we just hadn't had enough winter in Northern Michigan and we needed to get us some more. I pity those fools who spent their spring breaks basking in the Caribbean sun while we trudged through snow on horseback or took our lives in our hands while being whipped around ice covered lakes by wild dogs attached to a flimsy sled.

I'm not at all bitter.

On our drive back home we stopped at a restaurant in Rapid City, South Dakota. For the life of me I can't remember the name, but the colors were spectacular and the inspiration for this bracelet of corals, olive, black, and mustard yellow, wound together with antiqued brass findings and bronze wire. 

All made by me in my little studio overlooking Lake Michigan, surrounded by dogs and classical music. Ha! Who am I kidding. I like me some Jack Johnson and maybe a little NPR when the timing is right. Which has nothing to do with this bracelet. 

This will comfortably fit a 6 to 7-1/2 inch wrist, I do believe. Accented with Swarovski crystals and coral.

C'mon!  That's the work of a literary genius, I'm telling you.  A post in and of itself!  I'm nothing if not long-winded.

This post is to get over the hump of "Sheesh, it's been so long!  How do I start?  What do I say?  Do I tell everyone that my mom has been admitted to Hospice, a comment that makes most people breathe in then out slowly and say they're sorry?"  Actually, that's been a good development but hard transition for my father.  He's the one I worry about.

Why, oh why, won't he get a cat?  A warm little bundle of life that would be there when he got home.

He's taken such wonderful care of our mother for the past 8 years especially, that the house must seem empty and his life needs reassigning and at 82 years old I can't imagine how you go about doing that.

So, do I mention any of that?  

Do I mention my part-time job walking dogs?  The job that everyone says, "Must be so much fun!  Do you just walk dogs all day?"

Yes, yes, I do walk dogs for a great majority of the day.  My first week there I walked for 4 hours.  Straight.  I've never been so physically tired in my life.  Or hungry.  For cookies.  I also pick up a whole lot of dog poop.  

Kate has never stopped writing.  I hope you've been keeping up with her here:

http://www.theblankiechronicles.com

for posts that make you think and then rethink how you might be thinking.  And for writing that makes you celebrate little things like homemade aprons and sparkly shoes.

I guess I write about all of that because I was starting to feel like I do when my thank you notes keep being pushed to the back burner.  Is it too late?  It's too late, isn't it?

I don't think so, because I've got so much more to say.  

I'll be back.