Stepping Away from the Edge

A Brief Interlude

Some Eva Cassidy. . .

 

Because I'm feeling in need of a brief interlude today.

Yesterday's events in Boston touched me profoundly.  Horrific and senseless violence is always disturbing.  But I can't quite shake what happened at the Boston Marathon.

As the spouse of a rather serious runner, I know what it's like to wait at the finish line.  In fact, I've waited at that very finish line. . .

You stand there, in the press of the crowd.  Watching.  Waiting.  Checking the time.  Looking.  Looking.  Checking the time.  Waiting.

And expecting . . . to celebrate and congratulate and support . . . once your particular runner crosses that finish line.

You don't expect exploisons.

My heart feels this one deeply.

 

 

Struck Down

The Crud finally hits.

Although I think it's a different - and more mild - Crud than the one that visited Tom and Brian over the holidays.

Still.

This is my day today.

Pass the Kleenex. . .

Good News, All Around

First, there was good Jenny news.

Very Expensive X-rays (a number of them; the Mother Lode of X-rays) revealed good news:  no hip dysplasia; no torn ligament; no arthritis; joints and bones all in good shape.

So, why is she limping?

Our vet thinks . . . deep tissue injury.  Basically, a deep and painful muscle injury - that is continually aggravated by overuse.  Jenny is on a  3-week rest regimen.  No jumping.  No squirrel-chasing.  No running in wild circles through the yard.  No rough-housing with Tom.  No jumping from the retaining wall.  She can still go on walks with me, but leisurely walks.  On flat ground.  (This is going to be a challenge for Jenny.  Too bad she doesn't knit. . .)

But, best of all, she should heal and be fit and fine again.  And . . . next spring . . . she'll be flying off the end of the dock once more!

Also.  She has Movie Star Teeth!  (We had them do a teeth-cleaning while she was under anesthesia for the X-rays anyway.)

Then. . . there was this . . .

Contented sigh.

I even think I found some boots.

Good news everywhere.

Week.Ending.

Friday, already?

Really.  Where does the time go?

This weekend, I'll be. . .

• catching up
• painting
• working in the garden
• mothering Brian (who'll be home for a short fall break)

Enjoy your weekend.  I'll catch you on the flip side!

If There's a Post on a Saturday, a Rant Must Be Involved

I have been driving Tom crazy with this one (Brian, too), so I might as well blog it and maybe I'll be able to just Let.It.Go.

I get a little obsessed with fund raising strategies.

There.  I've said it.

But. . . my career (for the last 20 years or so) has been focused on philanthropy -- foundations, grants, development plans, and the like.  (Heck, I even have Master's degree in Philanthropic Studies!)  So, yeah.  I pay attention to things . . . foundation payout rates, who is funding the latest capital campaign, how the United Way is doing this year, even . . . how the $2 parking fund raiser is going for the Church of the Almighty down at the local farmer's market (today?  Not Well).

But this one?

This one has been stuck in my craw for a couple of weeks now! (Just ask Tom. . . )

When I first saw this sign in my neighborhood, I thought. . . Mattress Sale????  Portage Northern????  Thank goodness we only had to deal with the battery sale (hockey team) and the candle sale (choir) back when MY kids were at Portage Northern!!!

But then, my philanthropy-nerd-side started chewing on it.

Mattress sale fundraiser?  Can this be A Thing?

I mean, who is their target market?  Certainly not . . . general school or team or club supporters???  As a high school supporter, I have shelled out cash to competitive cheer teams who do a terrible job washing my car, to football teams for coupon books full of coupons I will never use, to cross country teams for terrible chocolate bars, and to the student senate for loaves of white bread during their annual Breadlift campaign.  As a parent, I have purchased magazine subscriptions, calendars, candles, and probably a 10-year supply of batteries.

But . . . a mattress?

Not a chance!

Hey, honey?  You want to buy a mattress. . . to support the kids down at the local high school?

Really?  The target market can't be the general supporter.

So.  Maybe their market is . . . the general population who just might be in the market for a mattress.  But.  If you were in the market for a mattress, would YOU want to buy one from a high school band kid?  Or a swimmer?  Or the girls volleyball squad?  Hmmmmmm. 

Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe this is a hot new trend in high school fundraising.  But it just seems like a wacky idea to me.

Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?

(I think I feel better now.  Tom, for one, will be grateful when they take the signs down and I can just forget about it. . .)

Inside View

A few weeks ago, I told you about the dead Christmas wreath on my front door . . . home to some nesting purple finches.

If we stand on a stepstool inside the front door and stand on tiptoe and tip our heads just so. . . we can watch the action in the nest from inside.  It's a pretty good view. 

We just leave the stool there all the time now, so we can climb up and peek in whenever we walk past.  (We also make sure that we never open the front door!)

It's been exciting to watch the process unfold . . . from watching Mama Finch sit on the nest all the time. . . to hatching day. . . to watching the babies grow.

It's a tough angle to see the whole nest through the window.  For the entire process, we've thought there were four eggs; four babies.  Today, though, we discovered that there are actually five!

I've tried to take photos from time to time, but the angle is just too extreme to get things in focus. This evening, though, I was up on the stool with my camera in hand at Just The Right Time!  I was able to capture feeding time in pictures (albeit, not very good ones!)  Enjoy!

The babies are getting their feathers now.  It's only a matter of days, I think, until they fly away.

(Then. . . I'll be able to remove my eyesore Christmas wreath!)

An Unexpected Gift

I have just been given an unexpected gift.

As many of you surmised from yesterday's post about the state of my desk, I am currently riding (full steam ahead!) the Crazy Train.  And . . . I'm going to be aboard for a few more weeks.

Today, though, two things happened.  First, my regular Friday morning class at the gym was canceled.  Second, my friend Sandie and I rescheduled a long-planned nursery visit out of town.

This means. . . a full day has unexpectedly opened up before me!

This reprieve is Just What I Need.

Time. . . to attend to a few small details. . . to regenerate. . . to prepare for what's ahead.  Maybe I'll walk through the garden.  Knit a few rows.  Finish a book.*

It feels good . . . to have some pressure released.  Even if just for a day!  The sun is shining.  The garden is blooming.  And, suddenly, my weekend is beginning!

Hope you enjoy yours, too!

==========

* But no clearing off of the desk!

Beats the Alternative!

So many times, I hear people . . . dispair. . .  that it's their birthday.

Another year older.

No spring chicken.

Past their prime.

Beats the alternative.

Well.  Today, let me assure you . . . having a birthday . . . and turning a year older. . . is a privilege.  Not a problem.

 

It's my birthday, too, yeah!

I never used to like to celebrate my birthday.  I didn't want to draw attention to myself.  I still don't, really.  But I do like to acknowledge the day now -- more than ever.

We're gonna have a good time!

I'm going to fill my day with things I love doing.  My turbo-kick class.  Lunch with a friend.  A little knitting.  Maybe some gardening (a first for my birthday!).  Dinner with Tom.  And, tomorrow, a birthday dinner with my family -- where my Mom will make me the same birthday dinner I've requested since about age 8 (lasagne, "grass salad," and German chocolate birthday cake).

Take a cha-cha-cha-chance!

And I'm going to use this gift of another year . . . to try some new things, think big thoughts, move in new directions, live happy, and not waste a minute.

Because . . . getting older . . . really DOES beat the alternative!

 

Making a Statement

My daughter, Erin, is home for a visit this week.  (It's her spring break.)  As many of you know, she is a grad student at Carnegie Mellon University, just finishing up work for her Master's degree in English Literature and Cultural Studies.

Erin is particularly interested in literature as it intersects with pop culture; or "new media."  She is frequently frustrated in her efforts . . . because the field is just emerging, really, and changing as fast as "media" does these days!   She encounters both professors and students who are not quite. . . well, ready . . . for the "new" in "new media."  Erin, though, has always (since her tiny toddler days) been incredibly perceptive to the world around her.  She is . . . On To Something . . . and she will perservere.  (Just wait.)

Anyway, she has a blog of her own, and she frequently (between tales of life in a new urban setting, the frustrations of graduate school, video game reviews, and political rants) writes of her own thoughts about this emerging field.

I thought it might be fun for her to become a "guest blogger" here on my blog today.  When I read this post of hers last week, I was quite moved.  I hope you will be, too.

Take it away, Erin. . .

Statement of Intent

I was born between 1980 and 1999. I am a Millennial, and they keep telling me that I am the future. 

I grew up with the Internet. I transitioned from cds to mp3s, from VHS to DVD. I learned to type before I learned cursive. I learned my multiplication tables from Math Blasters. I grew up with Nintendo and Microsoft and Apple and cellphones.

I was twelve years old on September 11, 2001. I remember sitting in my classroom—I believe it was pre-algebra—that morning, watching the classroom television in silence, transfixed by the image of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center. I remember not really understanding what was going on or why it was happening. I was twelve. My main concern: were there any planes coming to get me? 

I watched President Bush address the nation. I watched him declare the “war on Terror.” I remember a time before Homeland Security. I followed the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan on and off as I went through middle school, high school. I watched some people I graduated with go off to war. I went to college. I cast my vote for Obama in 2008. I watched the banks collapse only to be bailed out. I studied the corporate greed. I saw it happen before my very eyes.

I follow Occupy in the news, I watch the police and the politicians try desperately to stop the most deadly force: a group of people who have seen the world collapse...and not seen anyone trying to fix it.

I study new media and culture. I bash my ideas against a wall of resistance. The professor doesn't understand that there is no difference between a book and an eBook. It's what is written that matters. I think they're afraid of me and my ideas. Because they know when I was born.

I was born between 1980 and 1999. I am a millennial, and I am your future.

And I’m not going away.

 

You've Got Mail!

I'm busy this week.  Too busy to blog, actually.  I even missed Ten on Tuesday yesterday.  But I did want to just pop in to say. . .

I'm loving this Month of Letters thing!

I love sticking a card (or two) into my mailbox each day.  (And I've loved picking up a few notes and cards, too!) 

To make things easier, I assembled all of my letter-writing paraphernalia (stamps, pen, address labels, notecards, thank-you cards, birthday cards, old-school address book)  in one handy basket.  Now, it's quick and easy to jot a note or send a card!

I think I may just continue this Month of Letters thing indefinitely. . . (although maybe not EVERY day).  It's been fun; it doesn't take up much time; and many of my letter-recipients have been downright delighted to get a note! 

Win-win. . . all around!