Snow Day

Posted on January 27, 2015 by mahines

There’s nothing quite as sweet as a snow day.  Oh, I know, kids think they have ownership of the joy of a good old snow day.  Not true.  Adults do the happy dance too.  At least this adult does.

Although the Big Blizzard of ’15 didn’t hit my corner of Connecticut as hard as expected, it counts as a pretty good January storm.  I woke up to this – and it’s still snowing.

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Knowing the snow was coming. I was able to plan in advance to work from home today.  And in a little while, I will log on and start working.  But right now, I am just enjoying the change in routine.

So how does this adult celebrate a snow day?

First – sleep late.  I got to stay in bed 2 extra hours.  And the dogs were good and just waited for me to stir.  It was so delicious to just lay there knowing I didn’t have to jump into the shower, rush to get ready and head out on my 2 1/2 hour commute.  Woohoo!

Second – I get to hang out in my sweats.  I love my sweats and fuzzy clogs.  No make-up; hair still messed up from sleep.  I look like hell.  Who cares.  Nobody is looking at me but the dogs.  I’ll take a shower and tidy myself up later on.  But right now, well let’s just say I won’t be taking any selfies.

Third – I ate cold, left-over Chinese for breakfast.  Because I could.  Because I like cold, left-over Chinese.  Because I makes me feel like a college kid again.  Now I’ll make coffee and take my vitamins.

Fourth – I can play with the dogs as much as I want.

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Fifth – I can just sit and watch the birds at the feeders.  We filled them up before the storm and they are almost empty already.  When it stops later, I will venture out and refill them.  That counts as playing in the snow for me.  I used to have to clear a path for Ginger and Gilligan to go out.  But Daisy and Maggie are much bigger and love the snow so I have officially hung up my shovel.  A few times in and out and they will have cleared their own path.

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Sixth – I CAN DO WHAT I WANT, WHEN I WANT!  I can do some laundry or not.  I can have a glass of wine with lunch or I can skip lunch all together.  I can take a nap.  I can work for a few hours then stop to watch “Ellen”.  I can try to work on a old knitting project.   I can read.  I can rearrange my closet.  The pure freedom is exhilarating.  No snow forts, no sledding but fun, fun, fun nonetheless.

I love the feeling of being warm and snuggly in my house while the snow piles up outside.  The thermometer on my porch reads 18 degrees and the wind is blowing the chimes like crazy.  I think I’ll light some candles, take out my chawan (tea bowl) and make some matcha tea.  Then I will settle with the dogs and just be.

What a great snow day!

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Be Prepared

Posted on January 22, 2015 by mahines

Growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, my world vision was shaped by TV.  It was a narrow vision.  There wasn’t the plethora of stations there are today.  This was B.C., Before Cable (No one will ever pay to watch TV.  Not when they can get it for free.)  There were the Big Three Broadcasters  and some small, local stations.  Programming consisted mostly of variety shows, game shows, some drama (Perry Mason, GE Theatre) and a few comedies (I Love Lucy, Car 54).  But those were on the national channels.  The local channels showed lots and lots of old movies.  And thoses were my favorites.  In particular, I was very strongly influenced by the cheesy, black and white sci-fi pics.  This was the time of the fledgling space program.  I loved movies like “Forbidden Planet” with it’s Monsters from the Id.  But my all-time favorite was “The Day The Earth Stood Still”.

In “The Day The Earth Stood Still”, TDTESS for short, Michael Rennie played Klaatu, a very human-like alien who comes to Earth to warn us.  Our human shennaigans have pissed off the rest of the Universe.  We better clean up our act or face TOTAL DESTRUCTION (cue ominous music).  And to prove he means business, he brings along Gort, a giant robot.  Sort of an early version of the Terminator without the skin.

GORT

GORT

Gort has this Cyclopian eye that doubles as “A DEATH RAY”  (now known as a powerful laser).  When he gets hassled, he slowly opens that eye and ZZAAPP, hassle gone.  Freaked this little six year old girl out I tell you.

Of course, the people in charge don’t buy Klaatu’s warning and try to capture and/or kill him.  But Klaatu escapes and meets some nice non-asshole Earthings who take him in.  He tells them that if he is not back at the spaceship by a certain time, Gort is going to be really pissed off and start turning that DEATH RAY on everything in sight.  He tells this one very friendly Earthling named Helen that if anything should happen to him, she must tell Gort “Klaatu barada nikto” or he will destroy everything.

“Klaatu barada nikto”.  That is a very important phrase to know. At least  in my six year old thought process.  I believed that I absolutely needed to remember it in case aliens ever invaded.  If I could tell them “Klaatu barada nikto”, I could stop them from destroying Earth.  I assumed all aliens spoke the same language.  This was before Star Trek taught us that aliens spoke lots of different languages – Klingon, Vulcan, Lizard-People talk (which is just a lot of hissing but, hey, I’m not judging).

So I repeated it over and over again – “Klaatu barada nikto.  Klaatu barada nikto” – until I was sure I would never forget it.  Life on Earth as we know it depended on me being able to face invaders from space and saying “Klaatu barada nikto”.

This morning I was standing on the platform waiting for the train and I got the sense someone (or something) was staring at me.  I turned and saw this.

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Most people would think is was just a halogen lamp.  But I recognized it as the updated, 5.0 version of Gort.  Very quietly, I whispered “Klaatu barada nikto.  Klaatu barada nikto.”  Well, it worked.  No one and nothing at Purdys Station got zzaapped this morning.

No need to thank me.  Just thank God my six year old mind understood the importance of speaking an alien language.

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The Visit

Posted on January 16, 2015 by mahines

You barked in my heart this morning.

I wasn’t expecting it.

I was driving to the train,

watching the truck in front of me,

keeping a safe distance.

And suddenly, there were your eyes looking up at me.

Tears blurred my vision

and I was slammed back into that last day.

Holding you like a baby,

wrapped in a pee-soaked towel,

waiting for the vet.

I remember how you looked up at me

as I whispered to you of my love.

I think you knew before I did what was happening.

Maybe not the exact events,

but that you were leaving me.

I cried for days afterward.

I prayed that you would visit,

let me know you were still with me.

And I thought I heard your bark once or twice.

Then, nothing.

But I forgot you are The Trickster.

My angel dog with the bent halo.

The one with the wicked sense of humor,

so smart and full of  surprises.

And now you are laughing

that silent doggie laugh.

Smiling and wagging your tail.

You got me.

Again.

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Not The Girl I Used To Be

Posted on January 5, 2015 by mahines

I’m not the girl I used to be.  Seriously, a millenium ago (really, the seventies were in the last millenium) I would get excited because I was headed to Studio 54 or had just bought some new Betsy Johnson platforms or had scored tickets to ELP (Emerson Lake and Palmer).  I was a city girl – go, go, go 24/7.  Out all night, come home, shower and go to work.

Not so much anymore.  I’m a country girl now.  Although I still work in Manhattan and negotiate it like the local I once was, it may as well be Mars as far as I’m concerned. Now I get excited about going to pick out paint for the hallway.  My designer labels now read “L.L. Bean” and my shoes of choice are their Comfort Mocs.  The hottest concert I saw lately was Blake Shelton.  And as for partying all night – hahahahaha.

I’ll give you an example of how different my life is now.  Last week, I was overjoyed because, are you ready, the new garbage shed came.  I’m not kidding.  I couldn’t wait.  I was like Steve Martin in “The Jerk”  doing the happy dance over the new phone book. But you have to realize what a big deal this is.  My town doesn’t have a garbage dump so you have to use private carting.  There was a time when you could wait until pickup day and then just leave the bags by the side of the road.  Then they modernized with one of those one-man trucks that uses a fork-lift thingy to pick up the containers and dump them.  So now you have to put the garbage in the containers and wheel them down to the road; regular garbage every week and recyclables every other week.

My driveway is long and steep and winding.  At night, it is pitch black and in the winter, often covered with snow and ice.  Truthfully, most of the time my husband brings the containers down.  But he has long arms and can drive them down by opening the car window and dragging them alongside.  I have to walk them.  In bad weather. At night.  In the dark.  And country dark is DARK.  Except for all the creepy eyes glowing at you from between the trees.  Using a hunter’s light on my head lets me see where I’m walking but it could also let me see what’s attached to those eyes and I really don’t want to know.

Why not just leave the containers at the bottom of the drive you ask?  Number one – wouldn’t sit well with local small town government and, number two, did I mention we live in the country?  You know, the place with raccoons and bears and way too smart crows.

But now we have a tasteful New Englandy shed positioned just off the road behind a tree where it is hardly noticeable.  It has a strong latch to foil all but the most determined of wildlife.  (I’m not worried, most of our wildlife is pretty lazy actually.)  I can drive garbage down anytime and only have to wheel the containers a few feet to the end of the drive.  Oh Joy!

Yes, I know.  A far cry from the girl who danced the night away at Studio 54.  We get older. Priorities change.  A new garbage shed becomes a bellwether event.  It’s who I am now.  Besides, if I ever get nostalgic, there’s room in the shed to hang a disco ball.

The New Studio 54

The New Studio 54

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Heart and Hands

Posted on December 19, 2014 by mahines

Today is three weeks since I let Gilligan go home.  Most of the time, I’m able to push it out of my mind.  Until I look at my hands.

The last month of his life, I had my hands in water much of the time.  Each time I cleaned him or picked him up or handled the soiled towels, I scrubbed my hands.  The last week, I was bathing him daily.  I hand fed him and held the water bowl to his mouth.  And afterward, to the sink and wash, wash, wash.  It wasn’t just water, when I lifted him up, my hands would be covered in urine.  I didn’t care.

Right after his death, my nails just began to split and peel off.  Right down to the quick.  My cuticles were ragged and red.  I found little cuts all over that I have no idea how I got.  I’ve been cliping my nails and trimming my cuticles.  I’ve rubbed oil into the base of the nails and slathered lotion on my skin.  Slowly, the damage to my hands is healing.

My heart – not so much.

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Days of Gold

Posted on December 18, 2014 by mahines

Whenever people ask me about my commute and I tell them it is generally two and a half hours one way, the usual response is “You must really love where you live.”  And I do.  I love my little piece of the Litchfield Hills.  I’m in an area that is rural but not remote.  There’s wealth and poverty; town greens and strip malls; huge farms and small industry.  My neighbors have horses and the local Hunt Club rides through the nearby open fields.

I’ve learned to love the early mornings, right after sunup, when the air is filled with golden light.  The hills around me glow and I feel an incredible sense of peace.  This light and time of day always triggers a strong memory from childhood.  The odd thing is, it’s not a country memory, it’s a city memory.

I was born and spent the first six years of my life in Hoboken NJ.  If you don’t know anything about Hoboken, watch “On The Waterfront”.  It was filmed there the year I was born.  My aunt was a girl scout leader and I often went with her to the troop meetings and on field trips.  Whenever we were going on a trip, we would have to be the first ones at the gathering spot to meet the scouts as they arrived.  This particular morning, we were going by charter bus to someplace that must have been at some distance because we had to be there quite early.  We had gotten up and ready in the semi-darkness.  Then we walked a few blocks to where we were all meeting.  My aunt stopped at the corner store and got a container of tea for her and a roll and butter for me.  So much has changed now, but back then, there were certain corners, where if you looked east, you could see straight across the Hudson and right down a NYC crosstown block, to the outer boroughs and the sunrise.  I was only about five or so but I remember thinking I had never seen the sun come up before.  It was a Saturday, so there was almost no traffic at that time of day, and it was quite except for the occassional car.  The air was chilly and the semi-darkness made outlines of objects indistinct.   Slowly, as the sun continued to rise, everything began to glow.  At first, it was with a purplish light but then, as the sun rays struck buildings and cars and lamp posts, they turned gold.  The areas that remained in shadow first deepened to a dark, almost black, blue.  Then gradually, faded to ever lighter shades of grey.  My aunt and I stood in silence, she sipping her tea and me eating my roll.  I thought I had been transported to a magic place.  I had never felt so peaceful.  I’m sure I had seen beautiful things before, but in my memory, this was the first time my child’s mind recognized something as beautiful; something extraordinary.  I don’t know how long we waited for the first girls to show up and break the spell.  For me it was but a moment and an eternity.

That memory exists, amonst the axions and dendrites of my brain, waiting for a morning like today, to give it life again.

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Silly Girl

Posted on December 16, 2014 by mahines

You make me laugh, Silly Girl.

When my heart is numb

and my eyes burn with dried tears,

you come to me full of joy.

You grab my hand and say “Let’s play!”

Do you ever know sadness?

Or is that your blessing,

your gift?

To know only that you are alive

now, in this moment.

And this moment is heaven.

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So This Is Christmas

Posted on December 13, 2014 by mahines

I’m having a hard time with Christmas this year.  No need to go into all the reasons.  Suffice to say, it’s been a crappy year all around.  I see people getting all giggly and hopped up on “Holly Jolly Christmas”  and I want to whack them with boughs of holly.  I take that back, I don’t want to hurt anyone.  I just don’t want to have that elfin joy all up in my face.  It’s not that I don’t like all that holiday cheer.  I usually love lights and sparkly stuff.  And Christmas carols – I could sing Chritmas carols all night long.  Just not this year.  This year sucked.

Oh I know all about having an attitude of gratefulness.  And counting my blessings.  And don’t dwell on the bad stuff, think of all the good stuff.  And most of the time, that’s how I look at things.  But not now.  Now I’m tired and hurting and don’t feel like being at all cheerful.  It’s not that I’ve lost Christmas.  It’s just been hiding.  But the other day, it peaked it’s “God bless us all” head out of the dark clouds.

I have a friend who I know from Grand Central Station.  His name is Will.  He doesn’t live there exactly.  He’s homeless actually.  I call him friend because over the past year, I’ve gotten to know him.  I talk to him in the mornings or evenings when I pass through on my way to or from my train.  He has a little beagle named Rizzo and I stop and pet her.  He sleeps on the subway or in a hostle if he can get enough cash.  He has a friend named Celia who works in the neighborhood who helps him out.  She’s tried to find him housing and work.  He actually has a regular group of us, women mostly, who stop and talk.  We bring him and Rizzo supplies and give him a few dollars everyday.

On Friday as I was headed to work, I saw him and stopped to chat.  There was another one of his regulars talking to him.  I recognized her but don’t know her name.  While we were standing there, yet another stopped by briefly and gave him some cash.  I noticed he had all this stuff piled up.  “Yeah”, he said. “People have been bringing me all sorts of things.  I got two new blankets.  One I can roll up and tie on my luggage wheels.  The other I can put in the carrier for Rizzo.  She loves it.  It keeps her nice and warm.  And I got a whole box over here of food for both of us.  Problem is, I can’t carry all that food.”  So I asked him what he would do with it.  “I donate it to the church.” he said.

Bang!  There is was.  Right in front of me.  Christmas.  And not an elf or reindeer in sight.  Just people caring about each other.  I suddenly felt happier than I have in a long time.  I had to rush off because I was late.  I hugged him and gave him a ten and told him I hoped he was able to get enough to stay in the hostle that night.  It was going to be cold.

All the rest of that day, I found myself humming John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas”.   Tonight, my husband and I are going to watch “Rudolph”.  Tomorrow night, we’ll watch “Christmas Vacation”.  Maybe, in another week, I’ll be ready to spread some cheer.   Not quite yet.  But I’m getting there.

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Matthew 7:1

Posted on December 1, 2014 by mahines

I grew up in a family where, whenever I would be upset or cry over something, I was told “Oh stop it.  There’s worse in the world than you.”  I’m sure it was meant to toughen me up, make me strong.  All is did was make me bury those tears and learn that my pain, my hurt was not important.  Therefore, I was not important.

Everyday we cross paths with people who are hurting over something.  Often we make judgements about their pain.  We compare our pain to theirs. Or we compare their pain to the pain of others.  Perhaps some of this may sound familiar.

“Why is she so upset about her job.  At least she has one.  I’ve been out of work a year.”

“He still crys over his mother’s death.  It’s been years.  He needs to get over it.  I lost my Dad last year and I’ve moved on.  He should too.”

“I’m sorry she lost her breast.  But she’s alive isn’t she?  My sister isn’t.”

“It’s true, he had that cat for years.  I understand how much he loved it but it’s not like he lost a child or anything.  My friend’s son died in an accident a fews years ago and she still grieves.  I can understand that.  But a cat?”

I admit I’ve said or thought similar things and I deeply regret those words.  I also admit that I’m a bit sensetive to comments like that right now.  I’ve just lost a dearly loved dog and I know that, even though people are sympathetic to my sadness now, at some point, most will decide I’ve grieved enough.

No one can know the depths of another’s pain.  We are on a slippery slope when we begin to decide who is worthy of our sympathy and compassion and who isn’t.  It is not important why the pain is there or even who is experiencing the pain.  If we truly wish to be our highest and best self, we must simply see another soul that is hurting and respond with love and compassion, not judgement.

We all come from the same source.  We are all made of the same light and love.  We are all worthy.

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Do The Right Thing – Post Script

Posted on November 29, 2014 by mahines

My 90 year old aunt is staying with us and we didn’t tell her about Gilligan.  Honestly,  I didn’t know myself we were going to let him go until we were at the vet’s.  When we got home, we told her that we had left him there to be taken care of (which was, in a way, true.)  She told us that while we were gone, the other two dogs started howling and it was scared her.   She said she had never heard them doing that before.  Maybe, maybe not.

When I came down this morning, my thoughtful husband had already cleaned up the area in the family room where we had taken care of Gilligan.  All the towels were gone and his meds put away.  I was so grateful not to have to do that.

Finally, at the moment I let the Booger Dog go, I felt….. relief.  I had been full of anguish the past few weeks, wondering what to do.  Once the choice was made, I felt so sure, all the fear melted away.  I feel tremendouly sad, that’s true.  But I am also at peace.  I broke my own heart for him but that’s OK.  I know how to put the pieces back together.

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