For the love of dog.

Darling peeps,

happy national dog day.

Normally I'd be all over that crap, posting selfies with my pooches and posing them in ridiculous positions, but this year, my dogs have decided to die. Well, I'm sure they didn't decide, it just kind of happened, but either way it sucks.  I am a dyed-in-the-wool, card-carrying, Facebook- and Instagram-posting, crazy dog person. I love them all: big ones, little ones, long ones, tall ones, skinny ones, fat ones, but especially Winston Buddy and Daffodil Shmoopie(no, you're a shmoopie). After Greta, the Wonder Dog(RIP),






Winston,

and Daffodil

are my fave dogs ever.  Daffodil is suffering from systemic lymphoma and Winston has spinal nerve compression which will leave him paralyzed. They are both old: Daffodil is 11 and a half and Winston is 9 and a half. It's time to say goodbye, but we keep doing these things to keep them alive, like trying anti-inflammatories and antibiotics and hand-feeding Daffodil anything she will eat(today, it was tuna and hamburger. Yesterday, it was apple slices).

What do you do when things start falling apart? Me? I use a lot of profanity and then I cry at inopportune times, like walking in to the grocery store, then I try to muster the troops and keep on going. Mostly, I'm making a lot of uncomfortable jokes about dogs dying, which is super fun for everyone around me, and then filling my cheeks with air and slowly exhaling in a big, dramatic sigh. I'm in this weird middle place, waiting for these dogs to give up the ghost or, really, figuring out when to help them on to the next life. E says it's dog heaven, where they will play fetch with Jesus and be whole, young dogs again. E has a real connection to Jesus so it's pretty much guaranteed.

Why do I love these dogs anyway? On paper, Daffodil is a terrible dog. She's not affectionate, kind of a biter, intimidating to strangers, and as soon as you start to make a connection, she gets uncomfortable and moves 1cm out of arm's reach. But she's so chatty and asks for cookies by barking three syllables(biscuit, please!)and used to ask for water by standing at the garage door and howling "wa-wa-wa." When E was born, Daffodil was her constant protector, lying at the foot of the bed or next to her bassinet or anywhere she was. And in the middle of the night, she jumps up on the bed and lies in-between Michael and me and she scootches closer and closer to the top of the bed and might softly lick our hands if she thinks we're sleeping. Winston has fecal incontinence, gas that would wilt sturdy oaks, grabs sandwiches out of our hands and gets warm, viscous slobber on every surface in our house, including the ceiling.  Every morning when he gets out of his kennel, though, Winston leans against us and gazes into our eyes and wills all of his love into us. In happier times, he would jump up with front paws on our shoulders and make out with all of us when we got home from anywhere, including just out to the mailbox. He used to kick a soccer ball and Daffodil used to catch everything you threw for her(unless she didn't feel like it). I haven't had to talk to a Jehovah's Witness or a traveling salesman or the people casing the joint in years because of my big-ass dogs. I'm going to have to start locking my front door.

What am I going to miss the most when these guys are gone? Standing in the middle of the family room and Winston coming to put his head under my hand. Daffodil lying on my feet during Thanksgiving dinner(because after a couple of glasses of wine, I start to drop food). Knowing that the dogs are just downstairs whenever the family goes away for the weekend and I have to stay home and work. Having someone who acts like they're listening on all of the worst days, with no judgement and really cute expressions if I add the words "snack" or "cookie" or "biscuit" to any sentence.

When will our family be ready for a new dog? Probably as soon as we have new carpeting put in, because our life is like that. What screams puppy more than clean, cream berber carpet?

Can I love a dog again? Will any dog ever entertain us like Daffodil or love us like Winston or calm us like Greta? Probably not. Will we treasure the memories of these wacky canines? Forever. Sigh. Say a prayer, or think a happy thought, for Winston and Daffodil and us, friends, we're kind of a disaster.

Love,
Corks

The eyes have it.

Dear friends,

My littlest daughter just walked up to me with the wide eyes and the half-smile that scream, "I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF!" She had a coloring book pressed up against her tummy--hiding the picture--and she slowly turned it around to reveal a picture of a tiara(of course, it's a princess coloring book)that she had very carefully colored inside the lines. It was beautiful. She came back a few minutes later, same half-smile, same excited eyes, to show me a horse that was colored equally well. These are the parenting moments I live for because the path is clear: acknowledge the work that's gone into it, admire the color choices, hug the child, tell her I'm proud and the payoff is the aura of contentment and pleasure that surrounds us both. There are so many of these moments in early childhood. Achievement is a constant for most children and we are so achievement-focused when they are little: You talked! You walked! You went pee in the potty! You colored in the lines!

As children grow, the achievements stop coming so fast and furious, and they aren't so obvious. You dressed yourself(again). You walked into school by yourself(like normal). You washed your hands after you went to the bathroom (thank goodness). There are those major achievements we celebrate: soccer championships, music recitals, all A's. But I miss those shy half-smiles from my big kids. They are so soon replaced by the eyeroll of contempt and the angry stomp out of the room. Shouldn't I consider those developmental milestones, as well? Why aren't I brimming with pride at the backtalk and the bad attitude--these tweens and teens are doing what they are supposed to do! They are developing separate identities and learning to make big choices and becoming fully functioning human beings and that is the scariest truth of all. Having kids in their twenties who take care of themselves and don't really need me, unless they REALLY need me, is sooooo hard. How do I know when to be cool and when to butt in? With tweens and teens, it's the same. I know I need to give them some space, but how much? And when? What if they fail? Do I let them fail? Do I intercede? So far, I feel like I've made enough mistakes to know that I'm going to make more mistakes and that's the only assurance I have.

How do I move on then, knowing that my foundation is failure? I thank God that children are resilient and that my few successes are weightier than the many failures. I pray that their sad memories fade and their happy memories linger and hope that they know I acted like a crazy person most of the time because I love them so much (and also because I am crazy). I hope they understand that making huge mistakes is part of being human and even if they make a misstep, I'm still here, because making mistakes is the currency I trade in. And please know that if you see me staring far off into space with watery eyes and a sort-of smile, it's because I'm thinking "I AM SO PROUD OF MY CHILDREN!"

While I was typing, my small sweetness delved further into the art supplies, and brought me a treasure.

Who doesn't love a googly eye?

Love,

Corks

#firstworldprobs

Hi friends,

I have been up for a couple of hours this morning and I can't decide what to eat for breakfast. I think it's a dilemma a lot of us 40+ people have: finding food that gives you the most bang for the buck nutritionally, so that you don't overspend your daily allotment of calories and keeps you full until lunch. But I also want it to taste good so I'm staring into my pantry.

I'm also grumbling to myself about the jeans that I'm wearing, because they would be a lot more comfortable if I lost 5 pounds, which is what started this whole breakfast debate. And the psychic grumbling over my jeans reminds me that I definitely want to go online and continue my search for the PERFECT dress to wear this Fall, because I want something that will be comfortable, figure-flattering and fashion-forward. It's an elusive garment, and I think it's the thrill of the hunt that keeps me going, because I never find just the right one.

Inevitably, while I'm shopping in cyberspace, I decide to look at one of the many "Old Houses" websites that exist to find the perfect house in just the right state of disrepair(read: most of the work is done and it's not going to fall down anytime soon)that would perfectly showcase my mishmash of kidart and family heirlooms. Which leads me to looking for jobs in whatever corner of the Northeast I've found the latest 300-year-old saltbox--do I want to manage a Dollar General in downeast Maine?--and that reminds me I need to get a haircut because no one would hire a girl with a bird's nest on her head. Of course, I've got to go check out Pinterest for a new stylish cut and while I'm there, I'll see all of the awesome suggestions Pinterest has for my boards...and you get the idea. Before I know it, my morning is gone and I've moved my whole life into cyberspace and out of reality.

Why? Why do I love this imaginary world? Probably because my real life has too-tight jeans and kid murals ON EVERY WALL and 100% humidity and bickering children and doughnuts with lots of calories. Also, because my life is incredibly easy, and I have time to do all of this daydreaming. I am not out on the street in my too tight jeans and 100% humidity, searching for my next meal. I am not living in a trash dump with my family foraging for everything or cooking in a wood-burning stove or hanging out at the unemployment office or at the food pantry.

I'm in my air-conditioned, well-stocked, comfortable home dreaming about an imaginary life. I have healthy, intelligent children who are capable of drawing on the walls and coming up with new and imaginative insults for each other. I have a job and a husband and two dogs and a family and all the things many, many people dream of and I'm living in a fantasy world. Huh.

Clearly, I've got to work on on my perspective. This is not a new concept to me. I work on it ALL THE TIME. I think it is, in fact, my big lesson to learn. I will need your help, so next time I'm bitching about not finding the perfect dress or about the many choices I have for breakfast, pinch me. Please.

I'm getting up from the computer now and having a real conversation with one of my charming children.

Love,
Corks

PS. In case you were wondering, I ended up making oatmeal topped with a very ripe peach.

All in the family

Hi friends,

The most amazing thing happened tonight. My cousin, Amy, in Oregon, sent me this picture on FB:

She also sent this message: Look at what Chris found on eBay and gifted to my dad! Can you believe it?? Jim hasn't taken it off!!
 
Here is a news article from the 70's I found about my Dad leading a retreat to give you a little background and for a crappy black and white visual:

The News Frederick, Maryland

Monday, July 7, 1975

As you can see and read, my Pops was a potter and a teacher and a spiritual retreat leader. In his community, he was kind of a big deal. You can imagine my surprise, then, to see one of his marks come up on eBay, because those were pieces that represented his whole theology--he was marked as a sinner and redeemed by Christ's blood--and it just seems like $10 on the internet isn't special enough for that piece of my Dad. Alternately, though, I am elated that my cousin found it and was able to give it to his father, my dad's nephew. What are the chances? I mean, I'm truly thrilled. Dad loved his nephews like sons and I know he couldn't be happier than to have found a way home to his family. Wear it well, Jim, and remember to tell my Dad I say "hey" every once in a while.

Anyway, this whole episode makes me think about how we value things and how an original Bud Wilkinson has intrinsic value for me and a whole lot of people who loved him, but it's worth $10 on eBay to someone (who probably was gifted it or found it while cleaning up a loved one's affairs or any myriad of circumstances) who did not know my Dad(or did and didn't like that piece or my Dad). Value is something I question all the time, probably because I'm a person who likes things. I love to shop and find treasures and bargains and to make things and surround myself with beautiful things. But I have a big family and although we have a nice-sized home, there is never enough room for everything. Paper alone takes up about 15% of our home, not to mention the living room-sized kennel for the incontinent Great Dane, so space is at a premium in our home. If I bring home more things, they immediately lose their value because there isn't room for them to be special. So, lately, I've had to really think about whether things are valuable enough to come into the house.

And then I think about the value of people and of our personal history and how I saw that picture on my Facebook and IMMEDIATELY flashed on hundreds of mental images of Dad wearing a mark around his neck, like when he wore his gorgeous, blue batik dashiki to my sister's wedding or when he was cruising around town in the yellow shirt that my mom made for him or the picture I have of him and my Aunt June and Uncle Nibby and they are all gone now and once my dad was alive and wearing a necklace just like the image on the computer in front of me. That organic circle of flattened clay means more to me than any tchotchke or fine piece of art I could buy.

I can't judge the person who put Dad's mark on eBay(I mean, I can, but I'm trying not to) because they didn't have a personal history with a chunk of clay. It's just a thing. I will take more time, though, to think about the things I have and how I can imbue them with memory and experience that will have value to those who knew me and I'm understanding that has more to do with who I am than any old thing.

Please tell me about the things that you value. I would love to hear about them.

Love,
Corks

Limits.

Hello peeps,

Right this very second, I'm listening to E while she plays on a new reading game on the iPad. She coos "ohhhh, that's a-DOR-able!"about every single picture. At first, it was adorable. Unfortunately, I'm having one of those limited patience days and it isn't anymore. There are lots of reasons for my limited patience days(LPDs)and today, I'm blaming these three things:

1. lack of sleep
2. my vacation is drawing to a close
3. we have had SO MUCH togetherness

To combat my LPD, I got up from the Mac and went to find L, because I've been really short with her today. I found her watching TV and picking the decal off of a perfectly good shirt. I almost had a nervous breakdown right there. WHY ARE YOU PICKING THE PICTURE OFF OF YOUR SHIRT? were my exact words. Then I exhausted screamed and then I hugged her and told her I'd been coming to apologize for my grumpiness and she laughed and said "I was just picking off the black outline," and I said, "You're killing me."

Clearly, I'm not shaking it off. This is the last Saturday of vacation, so tonight, I'll drink my wine and eat my should-be-a-chef husband's grilled chicken, send the children to another room and unwind with some HGTV and then tomorrow, we'll have a screen moratorium and we'll spend our very last day of vacay doing laundry and finding non-electronic ways to drive each other crazy.

Pray for us, friends, we are a mess.

Love,
Corks

Today is the day.

Hey friends,

Today is the day I've decided to unveil my blog to some of my world. It's been up for about a year, but I have just now worked up the gumption to show it to anybody. And then I managed to delete my second post, so I'm feeling really good about it right about now.
Here are my concerns about writing a blog:

1. I want people to like it. And me.

2. I want it to be funny, but not meaningless.

3. I want it to be meaningful, but not heavy-handed.

4. I want to say what I believe, but not deal with crumby people.

5. I like bad words and I want to use them occasionally(or often). Beware.

Since it took me a year between my two entries, I'm hoping to increase my speed, but I am making no promises. To tide you over until my next blog, I'm going to share a picture from the top of the Hunting Island Lighthouse, from Monday. I learned two things there: I can still climb to the top of a lighthouse. Pelicans fly in formation.

It was beautiful and I hope to go back.

Thanks for checking this out. I am hoping it can be something fun and entertaining. 

Hoping to have something new for you soon!

Love, 

Corks