"Today is the day...

For all it's worth today may as well be the first day of spring. I know this to be true because a few years back I decided to dig a small pond and along with a neighbors frog,eventually I got fish. As most know I am a sucker for all animals and yet I refuse to name anything that I eat so my fish remain anonymous. There are many kinds, I have tried your standard goldfish, and of course the expensive Koi. My favorite is a seemingly a funny cross breed named shabumbkins. They all have their pros and cons but in the end the goldfish seem to survive. Koi are wrongly named I found and easy prey to big blue birds that swoop and land plucking your investment quickly down their rather slender throats. The first time I saw a blue heron I ran for my camera, now I run for a baseball bat, but they always get away.
The shabumbkins don't freeze and thaw like the goldfish, yes you heard me freeze and thaw.
What an amazing trick. So today was the first day I saw them swim and thus for me the day the earth opens it's eyes.
I photographed some lovely buds on the trees and ate my breakfast scone in the garden. I will continue with my afternoon chores of opening beds. Later on today I am sure to regret not knowing when enough is enough; but for now I will throw caution to the wind.
For this very first day I will try to remember the cold dark afternoons that I felt sad because there was not quite enough sunshine and be grateful that now there is. For today I will be grateful for the goldfish that woke me up to remind me ...Today is the day the Lord has made,let us rejoice and be glad!

No Good Deed…

My husband is very nice. He is presently unemployed, not too many people building extravagant houses these days. As one would imagine it is a difficult time for a busy man who is caught in a limbo of time. Nevertheless he has taken to doing many things since he is capable, and he like others has found Ebay.

I approve of his activities because he reminds me of my father. He too was destined for a early retirement but gleefully kept busy for the next 30 years. My Pop would walk the streets of Queens finding projects in broken items tossed away from neglect, or lack of imagination. He brought them home and on the kitchen table in our three room apartment he made them born again. Dexter does something similar except since he is reviving car parts he rarely gets them for free.

Recently he did a friend a favor and listed his old BMW for sale. For his meager commission he spent an enormous amount of time listing, checking, interviewing and finally securing the final purchase. The original owner seemed detached at best, and agitated at most to participate in an activity which seemed to interrupt his life. The day arrived when I returned home from work and my husband announced… “The car is gone!” Thank Goodness I replied; but it was premature. Within hours the phone had rang and the car along with its new owner were stranded. An “as is” sale was less than an hour old but seemed grossly unfair. My husband never mentioned his reputation as a seller being on the line, or that it was not his burden anymore, he jumped in the car and raced to the rescue.

Today the car sits still 70 miles from its final destination. My husband paid for the buyer to take a bus home, our seller still detached and disregarding his moral responsibilities.

The upside is in knowing the arrangement is no longer in between someone who wants a car and someone who clearly doesn’t care. I married the man who does, and as far as I am concerned that is the best thing he can do with this time in limbo.

Independent Thinkers

Everyone knows I love my pets. Presently I have three large dogs,one black cat,and four very stubborn bunnies.
My animals are independent thinkers and here is a little story to prove my point.
I do not spoil my pets but for the short time they are here with me but I do try my best. I don't think that any pet should be treated like a person and I stand by my convictions. I do not put my pets in fancy sweaters, I do not give them people food (I try not to) and I do not arrange play dates for them as one would for a small child of this indulgent generation. I believe they need to be allowed to act like dogs or cats and find their amusement in what dogs and cats do without my help.
My daughter Catherine also has a dog, a female Shepard mix named Sophie who she adopted from the North Shore Animal league. Sophie loves to come and play with my crew and we are extremely fond of her.
Since no one in my family has a trust fund that I know of we all went to work today and left the puppies at home safe in their respective spots.When I returned from school I had one dog more than when I left.
According to the neighbors Sophie burst free of her gate and went to call on the Great Dane across the street. On route she met our Samoyed Molly whom she is very fond of and they frolicked gleefully until they were tired .Molly headed for home behind the property fence that she has meticulously chewed a neat whole in and Sophie followed. Now my Lab and my Golden stay in a fenced kennel during the working day hours and Molly doesn't know how to get in the house on her own so my best guess is that Sophie, a master at turning the latch to our deck door led her inside where they were tucked and tuckered after a long afternoon out on the town.
Proving my theory that dogs do not need arranged play dates and are independent thinkers.
I wonder if when my girls start having children of their own Sophie will arrange the entertainment.Now that would be a neat trick.

The Bike Path

Today I took a personal day to catch up with a life that feels sometimes out of control. I rested my sore throat and rested my busy mind , An abundance of memories flooded me as I wandered through today; mostly of my Pop Johnny. He lived with me in the last 6 months of his life and he knew had to tell a story like nobody else. What was even better was he knew had to finish one. We, he and I, had a thing about the first two wheeler he bought me. I asked for red, he bought me blue. When I questioned how Santa could make such a gross error, he plainly answered, Blue is better.

So the battle began. All my life I tried to get him to stop telling me what I wanted. He intern told me what I thought and how to feel. Therapy, religion, holistic self searching...nothing changed. I married a man like my father the very first time, and it only got worse from there.

When I was strong enough to leave him and my troubled sence of self, the first thing I did was buy my own red bicycle. My x applauded me when he saw me ride it home, and I was on my way to healing a womb that was very long overdue.

Periodoiclly I would tell the story only to hear my dad grown in the background."Not that gosh-damm-story about the bicycle...can we please let that go?"

And when I built my present home I built a path now made of 176 bicycles re-claimed from the dump, woven as the armature for a fence that encircles my property and keeps preditors like deer at bay.

There are sections of tricycles and sections of Blue bikes,broken ones and ones that you could fix and ride. I even have two tandoms that I use as guideposts for entering the path. My "bike path" is a work of art and the springboard for many a long summer nights tale.

The best part of the story was the night before my father had his fatal stoke we sat by the fire, my present husband Dexter,my dad, and I. Johnny began..."Did I ever tell you about Steffi's first bicycle" he turned and asked my husband? I almost fell off the chair. "No, answered Dex gingerly. "Well she asked ....and he told the story true down to the last detail. EXCEPT one thing. When he got near the end he said. "and well you know it was a good thing that I knew the man at the store, because we took that blue bicycle right back and got her the one she really wanted."

My mouth dropped open and Dexter looked pale. The circle had come around and here he was needing to make it all right.

"Yup I said it was a great red bike POP". Go figure.

I look at the bikes now and realize it bothered him more than it ever bothered me. He never spoke of it, but he carried it around.
I collected 176 bicycles that make a path in a circle, just like we did. He brought us back to the begininng with the truth as he knew it. Life seems to be a combination of both. I'm not sure I'm any more together than I was yesterday
but it was nice to take a day and remember the abundance of love we each had.

The last thing i will do is cry.

No one should ever have to write about death unless one is reminiscing about a loved one who lived a full life; death should be kept still and respected in it's quiet unassuming place. My opinion,my blog.
This will be my exception.
I attended a funeral for one of my students this past weekend. We were not exceptionally close but he was still one of mine, from the first year I began teaching at my present school. He graduated 19 short years ago, he was only 31.
His death brought many unlikely people together. We cried and prayed,we cried and sang. We cried remembering what a silly ,happy funny kid he was and I think the last thing we will do when we think of him is cry some more.
He left a child and a family that adored him. Sisters,a grandmother and a Mom.
I kept thinking of them.
How would they face tomorrow after such a tragic loss?
There is only one answer for this I think and for me perhaps it is the greatest lesson of the day.
They will because they have no choice. Life although we sometimes pretend that it is ours to do with what we want, is not always so. There are bad things that happen to good people and good people who make bad choices. Sometimes the bad wins.
I will try and remember that I pretty damn lucky in the main scheme of things, but I want to go on record as saying my heart is still broken.
I didn't know him well. but when i think of him, that happy,funny kid; the last thing I will do is cry.