It's quite clear these days that Elderly Three-toothed Dog is increasingly deaf. He does not come to greet me when I arrive home, even though Tiny Dog makes a bit of a ruckus -- instead, I find him sound asleep in his nest, and have to touch him to wake him. He looks up at me, all bleary eyed. OH HELLO MOM, YOU ARE HOME.
This explains why, when I am out of his line of sight, he promptly gets up and looks for me: he cannot hear me moving around the house, so he does not know where I am. I'm starting to change what I do and where I go in the house to accommodate his need for proximity, by bringing him with me on occasion (especially when I go upstairs, since stairs are hard on his bad knee). We'll figure out how best to keep him comfortable.
There is a story in the news right now about an accident aboard a Southwest Airlines plane, in which an engine ruptured, damaging the plane and killing a passenger. You can read a bit about it here, and particularly about the magnificent pilot who safely landed the damaged aircraft and prevented further loss of life. If you are inclined, you can find audio of the conversation between the pilot and the control tower in various places online. I cannot listen -- for it is one of my pet fears brought to life.
I do not like to fly. I'm not an anxious flyer (more likely, a prone-to-airsickness flyer), but I do occasionally fret about the what ifs of air travel. I know I am much more likely to be squashed in a car accident or suffer some untoward medical emergency than to perish in a plane crash; still, there is something more viscerally terrifying about being miles up in the atmosphere, and then plummeting to one's doom.
I'm not ready to slip the surly bonds of earth, yet.
Why? Because, I think: the Offspring, though nearly grown, still need me, as does Beloved Husband. I know they'd manage, certainly -- none of us can pretend to be truly indispensable -- but I am loath to leave them without the safety and help I may be able to provide in times of need. And what of my siblings, my parents, my friend? They would manage, too, no doubt. But still.
Perhaps my dislike of flying stems from the fact that I recognize quite clearly how much my life is enriched by these people, and I project my own feelings of potential loss onto any imagined disaster. I am not ready for the possibility of letting go of these people, just yet.
What if I don't get one last chance to tell all those who are so important to me, how much they really mean to me?
I hope that they already know.
And I hope, too, that I will have much more Time to show them.
I visited the new Whole Foods store in my area for the first time, and it was exactly as expected.
Although it is too pricey for regular shopping, it does seem like a very good place for unusual food items. Perhaps, when I am less busy, I will explore further and do some interesting cooking. I would like that.
It is straining my mental resources to keep all of the various tasks on target, and there is so little time for anything I enjoy. No evening constitutionals; only the barest minimum of cooking. No daydreaming. No reading for pleasure. Nothing except All The Tasks.
I know that the timeline and tasks will adjust within another month, and that I just have to hold on. I can do this, I know. I am mentally fatigued, though. So much at stake.
I'm not intentionally vague -- I wish I could divulge more, but for privacy reasons, am not comfortable doing so.
Your company in this time of difficulty, gentle reader, is much appreciated, and I hope that you will forgive me the dearth of meaningful conversation and noteworthy information.
Offspring the First -- witty, kind, charming, lovely -- turns twenty-five today. A quarter century. It was her arrival that bestowed on me the title of "mom," and it has been an honor to help her grow into the person she is today. Congratulations, Offspring the First, on achieving this milestone, and on your valiant efforts to make your way in this complex world in which we live.
A quarter century ago, I, too, was twenty-five. Though that was a lifetime ago for Offspring the First, I nevertheless remember so much of it clearly still. Perhaps it was somehow just yesterday, or last week. Or perhaps, it is because Offspring the First has had such a profound impact on our world -- making us a family for the first time -- that all of those young memories have been etched clearly, forever.
I wish for you, Offspring the First, a clear and well-lit path into the future, full of joy and successes both large and small. We love you. Godspeed, and onward!
I have passed this small herd of cows several times now on the way to one of my tasks. They all have a large circular window (door?) on their left side. Offspring the Third, who is taking an animal sciences course in college, informs me that the windows are used to analyze digestion and compare various feeds and such. It's fascinating, in a somewhat horrible way.
I will say, though, that these cows are fluffy, glossy, clearly well-fed, and allowed to freely roam in a grassy field on a regular basis (for that is where I always see them). They hang out together in a comfortable spot when they are not roaming, and appear to be enjoying the mild spring weather. As uncomfortable as it may be to contemplate use of cows in this manner, perhaps we can take comfort in knowing that they appear to be content.
I don't write much about my family and loved ones, for they are all very private individuals. Nevertheless, I will say that this past weekend, there was a moment when there was a medical emergency and we were very concerned about the wellbeing of the family patriarch. He is brilliant, kindly, thoughtful, responsible, generous, and an overall outstanding human being, and we are all tremendously grateful that all turned out well. I aspire to be like him. Perhaps, if I try hard, someday I will have the grace of character that he does.
I am my father's daughter I have my Grandma's eyes I am the product of such sacrifice I am the accumulation of the dreams of generations And their stories live in me like holy water I am my father's daughter
NinjaHead resides with a muffin-baking woman known herein as Herself. Herself has a Beloved Husband, with whom she shares three nearly-grown Offspring. When she is not writing Things, Herself nurtures a visceral fondness for small furry creatures. The household menagerie, which has varied in size and composition over the years, presently contains solely a minuscule middle aged chihuahua and a lovely red fish named Ruth Betta Finsburg. Someday, there will be more critters, for she loves them tremendously.