Cccccccolddddd….

Happy 2014.  And Welcome back. 
 

Probably half the bloggers in the USA have written about how cold it is this winter. I am using it as an excuse to start posting again.  Living in ChicagoLand, it’s been pretty interesting.  I can’t say I like temperatures below zero.  But I have enjoyed the cold a fair bit when it was less extreme – teens and twenties (farenheit).  I love to cross-country ski.  It’s my favorite winter workout.  It gets me outdoors and pushes me to the edge of breathless, a lot like a good Bulgarian Pajduško.  

Since it’s been so long since I wrote, of course a lot has happened.  Big things: Home Ownership (December 2012), loss of Leo (January 2013) and adoption of Coco (September 2013).  

I wrote about Leo in April of 2010.  I loved that boy.  He got me through some of my darkest times.  I had every reason not to expect him to live a normal Golden Retriever lifespan, but he did.  His end was fast and easy/painless.  For him, which is what counts.  My pain still exists.  But I am grateful to have had him for so long and that he didn’t suffer a long decline.  

Coco is a rescued poodle mix.  Recently I described her to facebook friends as “15 pounds of cute entitlement”.  

Photo Credit:  Margaret Loomis

She’s smart, sweet, playful, and snuggly.  She’s not Leo.  But she has her own special place in my heart, having wormed her way in overnight when I fostered her for a weekend in late September to “see if we’d suit”.  I try to maintain discipline and mostly I succeed. 

I bought a lovely house that I’m still crazy about.  The yard could be bigger, but it’s big enough to grow flowers and a small vegetable plot.  It is perfect in every other way.  I have been reunited with my piano and I have a real kitchen again (and my kitchen stuff!).  Leo got to live in it for 3 weeks before he died.  Coco is snoozing on the loveseat here in my office as I write. 

I feel pretty settled, now.  I have a small group of very dear friends here (you know who you are!) and a large group of activity buddies, conversation companions, professional colleagues, and assorted fellow audience members.   I have been thinking for a while about coming back, and I guess…I’m here.  I hope to hold forth on a new variety of topics in the same spirit in which I began this blog.  Variety is still the spice of my life.  Hope you’re getting started on a great year, too.

Living

It’s been a while.  I went through a period where I found blogging a burden, another chore.  I’d rather be out there living. 

And live I have.  I went to my annual EEFC music and dance workshop, despite the expense.  In part this was due to the generosity of the EEFC Board of Directors, who asked me to be their guest this year.  Thus the expense was considerably less than it would have otherwise been.  That week refreshes my soul, both because of the music and because of the community.  The “booster shot” happens in NYC in January at the annual Golden Festival.  I have not attended in several years, but this coming year I intend to go if I can figure out how to make it happen. 

I’ve made some additional commitments, as a professional and as a volunteer.  I am actually a little more busy than I’d like to be.  But I wouldn’t give up any one of these gigs, so I stay busy. 

The singing season for Sing To Live is in full swing – I can hardly believe it, but we’re performing our first concerts this coming weekend.  I spend a lot of my time practicing.  I am at my best when the music is almost memorized, so I can relax and focus on watching Wilbert’s direction and communicating to the audience. If there's anyone out there actually reading this, you might want to consider coming to one of our concerts.  These pay tribute to the value of music in our lives; something very important. 

Several people among my friends and relatives are dealing with a serious illness.  It reminds me of just how precious each day is, and how important people are.   It is very difficult to watch their struggles from afar and to feel so helpless.  Not that I’d be much more helpful if I lived in any of the places they are.  Each is the primary combatant in the fight, and we in their communities can only stand on the sidelines and cheer, for the most part.  But I do not know whether to love or hate CaringBridge. 

I am so very fortunate to be part of several groups and communities from which I can draw solace, support, camaraderie and laughter.   I hope I contribute to each one, but I believe I receive far more than I give.  

The job search continues, and I am still single.  But I am not alone, I am healthy, and I am so very lucky in so many ways.  I try never to forget that. 

Home to Leo

I spent a lot of time out of the house today… which means Leo spent a lot of time in the house, alone.  I always feel guilty about that, even though I know he probably sleeps most of the time I am gone.  He was still glad to see me as always, both times I came home.  He was also promptly ready, as always, when I suggested a walk.
Leo is my eight-and-a-half year old Golden Retriever.  Anyone who is a dog person him- or herself understands completely what treasures his adoration and companionship are to me.  He is very accommodating and adaptable: he has completely changed living situations several times during his short life and has never complained or given me problems.  He has been there for me through the very darkest months (or at least I hope that’s what they were) of my life.  I literally do not know what I might have done if it were not for his presence, his obvious joy at my return home, his needs to get me out of the house even when I had no motivation on my own behalf, his comforting presence through otherwise lonely evenings, his ability, plenty often enough, to make me laugh.

The two photos are over 6 years apart.  In the 1st he was 2 years old.  The 2nd was taken this evening.  I have watched his face whiten over the past 8 months or so with the occasional stab of sadness at the passage of time.  Mostly, though, he's still the same dog, for which I am very grateful. 

Leo has a congenital kidney disorder.  This means I obsess over his water intake.  It also means he gets far fewer food extras than most pets because he can't eat much other than his special diet.  Fortunately he considers romaine lettuce spines and broccoli stems gourmet treats, so he’s always right there at my feet the minute he hears the telltale plastic-bag noises that mean I’m making myself a salad. 

He has developed a limp, so we don’t walk as far together anymore.  I have been working on making what walking we do a more mindful practice, even when it involves picking up after him.  This spring has been a delightful time to do that: I watch the small changes in my neighbors’ yards and gardens and enjoy how nature recreates the environment again for the year, one day at a time.  I love the colors of the tulips and today, for the first time, caught strong whiffs of lilac as we passed by bushes in bloom.  That scent brings back childhood memories and much pleasure.  Then, as now, I lived in a city.  But somehow despite the noise and the busyness of it all, I can still sense the beauty of the earth and enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face, if I remember to notice.  It takes work to drain my mind of my to-do list, what happened yesterday, the worries, the hurry if I’ve an appointment soon.  But it’s worth it to just be, just enjoy the moment as I walk with my beloved dog, knowing these moments are finite and knowing I must treasure each one, live in each one.

There are no treatments for kidney disease in dogs.  Fortunately his diet has worked very well so far; he is compensating to the point of keeping his blood chemistry on the very edge of the normal range somehow.  With careful management and very good luck, he may live to at least the low end of the normal life span for retrievers.  But I am very aware of the finite nature of his remaining time in the best case and of the fact that there are no guarantees.  It makes me determined to treasure him, and these moments.