ANNABEL COX
Our loving "jellybelly" kitty.
1992-2006
May her blessed, sweet soul rest in peace.
In 1988 Prozac is introduced to the public, "Push It" is the popular song and I went to work for a bank where I met June. Sick of being a wedding consultant and 10 long years of fashion shows, models, running a wedding shop, and planning a great many of the Northern California weddings I walked away from everything.
I broke up with Rich, went back to college and took a friend up on her offer to work at Great Western Bank in downtown Santa Rosa. I would have done anything to get away from brides and begin a new life. I think my mother thought I was mad. There I was, in a beautiful home with Rich, a nice car, vacations, beautiful jewelry and a prestigious job in the community and I hated all of it. I walked out with just the clothes on my back.
Leaving the wedding business was not as easy, because it involved leaving behind a cherished friend who had been like a second mother to me. But… I had reached the point where I hated the sight of a bride walking through the door of the shop and found it difficult to conceal my disapproval of their selfish, self-centered, childish bitchy behaviors. And if it wasn’t the bride,then it was a bridesmaid or maids or the mothers. I don’t know what it is about the whole wedding process that can turn people into the most horrifying displays of human nature.
So I ran screaming into banking. June was the lead teller on the teller line at Great Western and I liked her instantly. I remember the first time I met her. I was filling my tray in the vault (getting money) with the vault teller when June walked in with some hilarious comment that made me laugh aloud and a beautiful friendship was born.
June, a little over 5’10, thin brunette with a large smile was 22 and the hottest 10-keyer I ever saw. She could talk to customers and add their stack of business checks without ever looking at the machine. I think even her customers were shocked at her speed and accuracy while smiling and teasing them about something. She was the favorite of the platform supervisors and most of the employees at the bank, which drew extreme jealousy from Madeline, who fancied herself as the darling of the bank.
There are two types of redheads. There is the type who love to make love to one person, and are kind to everyone until crossed and then there is the selfish, mean, backstabbing, love to make love to everyone, and kind to people for a hidden agenda type. Madeline was the second type. (I will leave to your own opinion on which type I am). But there I was, working around another redhead - one that was insanely jealous over June and liked me for some reason.
I preferred June.
There are no games with June and she sees the underdeveloped talents in those she loves. For me, she thinks I am a beautiful, wonderful incredible woman that she just has to find a perfect man for. She is convinced every man loves me, and if he doesn’t he is either in denial or incapable of loving anyone. All, which make me laugh hysterically as she will not listen to me when I attempt to argue that point. She just throws up her hands and says something like, “Usted es una chica loca!” She used to love to set me up on blind dates and I would tease her that her only criteria wes that they breathed.
Herfavorite form of mischeif was to see a cute guy in the teller line, check his bank balance to see if he had money and then direct him to my window because I was "the only one who could handle his transaction". I would never see this coming and the next thing I know, she'd be sliding up behind me, calling some guy to my window and introducing me. Then she would return to her computer where she would flash my screen with dos-based instant messages about how cute he was and that I should ask him out. I would try and keep a straight face while handling this guy's transaction.
While working there, June discovered Doug and brought him to my window. "Schuzam!" I thought, "She finally got it right!" There before me was this 6'4", businessman who was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. He winked, as he could see what she was doing...my face turned beat red and a friendship was born.
Doug would come into the bank every other day, wait in line and then wait for me to be free to help him. There were times I couldn't think for staring at him. Finally one day, at my window he announced, "Catherine, you are the cutest thing and I would like to take you out and pursue a relationship, but before we met a girlfriend of mine from back east has moved here to try and work things out. I owe it to her to try and you aren't making it very easy. I respect you too much to mess with your head. I wanted you to know why I haven't asked you out, but can't stop coming by. Do you want me not to come to the bank anymore?" To say I was disappointed would be an understatement, but I loved his honesty and I liked his friendship, so I told him "Yes, come in. I don't want to lose a friend".
I went on to date Sean (another June arrangement) along with this kid whose name for the life of me I can't remember. I loved seeing Doug at the bank, and within a very short amount of time Kathy, the manager for Continental Savings in Sonoma, snatched me up and told me I belonged in San Francisco. I always felt the brief time I spent at Great Western was just to get me away from the wedding business and to meet June. Doug was to show me that nice guys abound and Sean let me drive Mercedes from his car lot. It was a sweet period of time which I attribute to the magic of knowing June.
We have remained best friends for 18 years now, although I don't get to see her as much as we both would like. She now bestows her magic on her husband who doesn't like to share and travels quite a bit with the Rolling Stones. But the brief time we get together, the magic is there and I enjoy laughing and hearing her comments about my life. I am lucky to call her my friend.
Several years back, while pregnant I was hiking Spring Lake near my home and came upon a newly erected park bench. Spring Lake has this cool thing where you can dedicate a park bench to someone who has died. As I slowly passed the dedication plaque my eyes began to read the name.... DOUGLAS URBANICK ....LOVING HUSBAND. I stopped dead in my tracts. It was Doug. He was in his 30's. I stared long and hard in a state of complete shock and sadness. I thought, "Oh thank you God, for I could not have handled this". I remembered all too clearly my own mother's pain when my father died. I would not have dealt well with being a widow at 36. It would have killed me. I felt deep sadness for his wife and I was grateful I wasn't in her shoes. It is funny how life works. We ask God "Why?" all the time and then years later realize that it is a good thing we don't sometimes get what we wish for.
Now ... in the case of June...I wished for a new life with new friends and in she waltzed. I am grateful this particular wish came true and our lasting friendship spans the test of time.
Until next time-
C
http://www.rollingstonesfanatic.com/malfparties.shtml
Spoken by Amairgin the Gael as he first set foot in Ireland
The Mystery
I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean,
I am the murmur of the billows,
I am the ox of the seven combats,
I am the vulture upon the rocks,
I am a beam of the sun,
I am the fairest of plants,
I am a wild boar in valor,
I am a salmon in the water,
I am a lake in the plain,
I am a word of science,
I am the point of the lance of battle,
I am the God who created in the head the fire.
Who is it who throws light into the meeting on the mountain?
Who announces the ages of the moon?
Who teaches the place where couches the sun?
(If not I)
Mark sent this “First Poem of Ireland” to me today in an email. Outside the sky is gray like the thick smoke from a large fire, yet the temperature is cold and the wind blows strong. It is a rainy Irish day in Santa Rosa. I was bemoaning in my mind how much I distain at living here, and how I’d love to move to some place like Las Vegas, where 5000 new people move a month. What exciting energy it must create, and great employment opportunities. A new life…a new place.
This weather tires me by February and I am ready for spring. And ready to move, but there is my son…and his daddy…that he loves. A problem that cannot be solved today, but Mark reaches out, across the miles, remembers how I love all things Irish, and reminds me that no one is an island who has friends. Such kindness always shocks me – I do not know why. That a man would remember what I love, and take the time to see to it that I experience it. Midwest men are so different than the men in California…so very different.
And old and dear friend of mine (June) is coming to visit me this weekend. She has the comedic edge of a professional stand up comedian, so I should enjoy some great laughs and be able to survive this latest rainstorm.
But spring…please hurry up.
Until next time-
C
...And you know what though....like tonight ... I look over and Brian has fallen asleep on the couch...Boonie the dog is lying on her back on Brian's legs snoring away...Annabel is curled up by Brian's head with her head stretched out over Brian's cheek.
I wouldn't trade this craziness for the world.
C
Brian returns home for the week and bedlam prevails. There are holy jeans, shoes worn to the toe, and socks where the heels are moving toward the arch. When does the destruction fairy slip into our world and go wild with ruination abandon? The laundry suddenly piles up, dishes remain in the sink and bath towels disappear into a black hole.
I look about as my carefully organized life crumbles into conversations about the big dipper and how many spoons we can hold up to the sky until we can't see it, the underbelly of an earth worm or is there one..., how many times around can the dog chase her tail and how many minutes can a piece of driftwood float with a rock balanced on it.
In the middle of the day I get a call from Brian at school. He is in the nurses office. His leg is still bothering him from his skating fall last Thursday. Funny how he ran around just fine on it this morning... I go to the school to retrieve him, but wonder what he is not liking about school these days. He is limping, but after an hour's wait in the Dr.'s office she can only surmise that it is a bruise. I do note his new shoes from November laying across the floor of the examination room, look like a dragon chewed them up and spit them out. Maybe it is just time for a new pair of shoes...and jeans...
There goes the new outfit I was thinking about for myself...
I get him home, fix dinner, help him with math homework, which I ask you, "Why in the hell is a quadrilateral line parallel to anything and why do we care?" Is Brian becoming an Architect, or an Engineer? At 10? Good lord. Why couldn't he want to be a famous writer? Nope, he just happens to love Math.
And as he is asking me for help, I am trying to imagine two adults in bed and exactly how our positions would work to create a quadrilateral and who would be taller. HEY! Don't knock it - whatever way I can get my head wrapped around his math problem and help him solve it. As I am straining blood capillaries in my brain, Brian says "Oh never mind - I know this one". Oh thanks son ... now my head hurts.
I cast my eye about the place and there is stuff everywhere and I cannot figure out how this happens so quickly, but if I stop and ponder it, this is exactly how it happens:
...I am in the kitchen washing dishes and Brian calls "Mom"...I reply with "Just a minute" but a minute won't work so I stop what I am doing to go to his room for him to show me he can spin a top...ok...then he says he's hungry...I go back and fix him a snack with the dishes half done...but before I can finish putting the snack stuff away, Brian's friend comes in through the back door...letting in the cat who is now hungry...and to no surprise, so is the friend...I make another snack and tell Brian to feed the cat, which makes the dog want something...Brian feeds both pets with dry food where their bowls look like dry food towers...and leaves the bagged food next to the pet feeding area...I, of course don't see this because I am making a snack...which I give to Brian's friend...as my mother is knocking on my front door...(of course she is because my house can't ever be clean when she pops by)...she brings gifts from Hawaii... which Brian opens with great glee...but... as with grandparents they buy stuff that comes in millions of pieces that I will be stepping on in the middle of the night...I am sure it is revenge for the times I made her worry...the boys take their shoes and socks off in the living room and spread Brian's new gifts across the floor to admire...my gift, a wooden bowl gets set on the counter because I think I need to wash it before putting it on a shelf to collect dust from non-use...I notice the coffee table has pencil shavings from the homework Brian started, along with glass water rings and rubber bands...the ice pack is on the floor next to the table along with 4 pencils, three crayons, a dog toy, a napkin and more rubber bands...what is it with boys and rubber bands..?...of course my mother takes the seat right in the middle of his mess and now I can't focus on her Hawaii stories ...I am only hoping she isn't sitting on something Brian has left behind...she finally leaves and I realize I need something from the grocery store... I race madly to Safeway and return home to fix dinner...begin dishes, only to have Brian interrupt me for more homework help of which I need my own tutor for...then comes the coercion to get him to shower...then I need to do a load of laundry because he has no socks ...or clean jammies...we compromise with sweat clothes...and at some point I fall onto my bed with a book that I end up falling asleep to...only to wake up this morning and wonder what happened to the place...
and don't even get me going on the morning ritual...
I laughed when I was listening to my morning radio show, Bob and Sheri and a woman called in to say that all she wanted for Valentines Day was to come home to a clean house that she didn't clean. No toys on the floor, no shoes and socks tossed everywhere, no dishes in the sink - a perfectly clean home. She also wanted to be able to enjoy it this way for two days. The idea of it turned her on...hell it turned me on.
It is amazing how we go from wanting flowers and jewelry for romance to just a home that looks like a fresh hotel room when we enter it.
Until next time-
C
http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/
http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com
This weekend I am spending time taking steps toward making my dreams come true. It is a truly blissful experience to put oneself on the line and step out and take risks toward destiny. I learned "Isolation is the dream killer" and was able to spend time in San Francisco, a city I deeply love. There is a 'high' that comes with finding the road that is going to take us to places we couldn't even begin to imagine on a good day.
I have noticed at times when my life is changing before my eyes and I sense an end to an era that a piece of special music seems to represent the time forever. When my marriage was ending, and I was taking the necessary steps to get out the song by Duran Duran "Ordinary World" was always on the radio. I related to every single word of that song. The song always makes me remember Trace, who from Minnesota (Tgreengirl508) held my hand from across the miles and saved me. Every time we spoke on the phone the song would come on and I would cry and she would tell me that I was amazing, strong and wonderful and I was going to do great things with my life.
It was a raining Saturday afternoon when my x husband moved his final pieces of furniture into his place and said "I hope you know what you are doing" and walked out of my life forever (well forever in the sense of being my companion). I shut the door and the radio station began to play "Ordinary World" as tears flowed down my cheeks. I gave him all the TV's, all the movies, kept the stereo and chose music as my source of entertainment. There are many friends here online who remember those days ...Trace ... Dale ... Dan ... Saio ... Steve ... Tara ... MaryPat ... John ... Vincent ... Mark ... KB ... such a wonderful support system...
Don't you have music that represents different periods in your life? "I Go Crazy" by Paul Davis represents the year I graduated from High School, lost my father, started college and broke up with my high school sweetheart. Whenever it comes on a radio, it transforms me like a time machine back to 1978 and that crazy tumultuous year.
"Every Breath You Take" by the Police reminds me of Rich and when (in college) we became serious. "Downtown Train" by Rod Stewart takes me back to the days I was living in Tiburon, riding the Tiburon Ferry into work at Continental Savings and dating Steve, a US Treasury Agent. Every time I hear the song I can smell the salt air of the bay and see the SF skyline fade into the distance from the back of the Ferry.
"My Favorite Mistake" by Sheryl Crow makes me think of riding on the back of Patrick's motorcycle during the days I was still fighting to get divorced. Patrick and I were so wrong, but he did see me through a rough patch in my life. "Kissed By A Rose" makes me think of Mark and when I began to travel across the US on planes to work in different parts of the country...far way from my little Brian.
Eiffel 65's "Blue" makes me smile and think of Brian and how we would dance around the kitchen of the cottage house. I remember the Christmas lights we hung across the kitchen ceiling and left up until the day we moved. We would often flip them on and have our own little dance party in the kitchen. He is such fun.
And these days it's "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt. It makes me think of Joy and how he'd be proud of me for fearlessly chasing my dreams. I will always remember his face in the Denver Embassy Suites' bar when he saw me for the first time. It took my breath away and etched his place in my heart forever.
My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.
You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true,
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
Cause I'll never be with you.
Yeah, she caught myeye,
As I walked on by.
She could see from my face that I was,
Flying high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.
You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you
Here's wishing all of you dreamy songs and long held dreams coming true. Until next time-
C
This week Continental Savings has been on my mind. In the late 1980's I worked for this bank located next to the Pacific Stock Exchange in the Financial District of San Francisco. Each day I would wake up at 4:30am, get ready and catch the 5:45am commute bus 76 to the Financial District. It was an hour ride, of which I had my own pillow, blanket and a set of construction guys (also traveling to work in SF on the high rises) would save my same seat every day. One of these guys would eventually save my life - twice.
Continental Savings was owned and operated by Frank Lembi and his son Walter, both San Francisco real estate tycoons and very Italian. The Lembi's had the ability of hiring the most fascinating people to work for this financial institution and neighboring bay area branch offices. I started as the Administrative Assistant to 6 VP's, who I adored but ran me ragged. One, named Mike, I had a serious girl crush on.
To the Lembi's the Continental employees were family and I can say without a doubt I have never been treated as well as when the Lembi's owned and ran the bank. The employees loved working for Continental Savings. This made for a wonderful work environment. My Irish freckled self was a minority, as the staff was rich in cultures I had never had the pleasure of coming in contact, being from my small white bread Sonoma County town.
There was Nuri from Viet Nam. He was a doc drawer in the mortgage-lending department. The Khmer Rouge killed his father and he traveled with his mother to America. They lived in Chinatown and Nuri was a bookie on the side to supplement his income and care for his mother. I adored him and was fascinated by his stories of Viet Nam. He loved me because I was never afraid to try some strange Asian dish. He would say "You are sure not like other white girls". HA! That is a fact.
There were the "Three Steves" as we liked to call them, all from China, sent to America to go to college and learn banking. They spoke little English, argued constantly among themselves, and were forever combing the halls of the bank searching for me yelling, "Kafri, Kaaaafri" (This is how they pronounced my name). All three were from wealthy Chinese families who would fly over once a year to see if there were any "good" Chinese girls in America for them to marry. I was 28 and they were determined to find me a "good man" as I was getting too old to be a good wife and mother (according to them). They didn't know what to think of me, and with Nari loved taking me to these obscure Chinese restaurants down back alleyways in San Francisco for lunch.
"Kafri, you need to marry soon,” they would say slurping up undon noodles. "I am doing fine" I would retort. "Getting up at 4:30 and riding a bus and getting home at 7pm at night is not fine" they would shoot back. Nari would roll his eyes for he claimed he was never going to marry. "Women are too much work" he would say, "Just have sex Cathleen". The three Steves' would become appalled that he said such a thing and start arguing with him in Chinese.
Then there was Leo. Leo was my best friend who ran the computer room for the bank. He was from Indonesia and came to America to go to college and loved it so much he decided to stay. He wanted to marry a California girl, but ended up meeting Ria from back home and married her. Leo is the reason I went back to school to study computers. At the time, I was attending SRJC in Santa Rosa studying Real Estate and Contract Law. I would eat a light snack on the commute bus home and get off at the college to attend classes from 7-10. Damn, those were some hellishly long days.
Once we became friends, I don't think there was ever a day that Leo and I did not have lunch together. When he finally took his first vacation in three years - a two-week trip back home to Indonesia - he nominated me to learn his job and handle thecomputer room while he was away. I thought he was nuts, but he kept on saying, "You are smart enough". His boss, George agreed and the next thing I knew I was handling the computer room. In a small company, employees learn everything. Much to my great shock I fell in love with computers.
Later, Leo would build me a computer from scratch, drive up to my home and give it to me. "You should learn this. You are smart and it's a good career for women". I did exactly what he told me and it has saved my butt more times than I can count.
George, who headed IT at Continental Savings, invented a Loan tracking software for the Loan Officers. He called it SmartQual. When Continental closed its doors, George went out and developed a complete loan origination system calling it Loansoft. I have worked with him and his software twice since leaving Continental. George is this hilarious combination of Kelsie Grammer and Bob Hope. He also has pushed me into the male dominated field of computer science.
Nancy ran the compliance department for Continental Savings and eventually I left the VP's to go to work for her. She was one of the best bosses I ever had the pleasure of working for. She pushed me hard to learn the operations side of mortgage banking and I eventually became her top funder. I loved it when she gave me research for her cases. While under her watch, Continental never lost a lawsuit. She eventually went to work for George as his lead Loansoft trainer and found an obscure government program for me to attend computer school while I was out on maternity leave. I love her, because she made it possible for me to financially get a divorce.
Then there were the Santa Rosa loan officers for Continental Savings...what a motley crew. All x band members looking like something from Billy Idol, who was the top producers for the bank. They were such fun. Elisabet (Ebet, my best friend) was their assistant. This is how we became friends. On Fridays, the guys would travel to the city in top producer Steve's big ole Mercedes sedan and drop of loan packages to me. They would go around the bank schmoozing and end up back in Nancy's office where they would convince her to let me leave early. I was thrilled because it meant I would be home well before dinnertime. They would stop at a liquor store, grab ice, liquor and mix and with their battery-operated blender, mix cocktails for the commute home. They always gave me the front seat and Steve would smoke his cigars, laugh and tell me old band stories all the way back home.
Joe Montana was our spokesman; his mother was platform supervisor for our Millbrae branch and his dad a loan officer there as well. Joe DiMaggio came into the SF branch downstairs each morning to chat and have coffee. He was the banks favorite client. Catherine Crosby turned heads and Paul Reubans (Pee Wee Herman) was fun to help. Continental Savings was a bank for the rich and famous. Clients had to have a minimum balance of 10k just to open an account. Frank Lembi preferred the LIBOR index and used it long before it became known in the mortgage-banking world.
Then there were the African American women from Oakland. God, how I loved them. Smart, sassy, funny and well dressed. They ran their positions at Continental Savings like CEO's of their own companies. They loved to call me "princess" as they felt I was often way too nice for my own good. There was 'Mother Mary' this graying larger than life black woman who ran the front desk on the CEO's floor ('the 16th floor' as we liked to call it). She mothered everyone and was the heart of the bank. There was Louise, who sat next to me and once refused to talk to her sons for three weeks after they forgot Mother's day. They tried everything to get backin her good graces, finally succumbing to the pressure and surprised her with dinner, flowers, gifts and apologies.
And there was Marie, who disliked me at first sight, because later she would say that I looked like an up tight bitch (laugh). She wore nothing but leather, skirts that were about 3 inches long, heeled pumps I could never walk in without breaking my neck and 2 inch long fingernails. For some reason we always ended up on the elevator alone together and she would roll her big brown eyes. She worked in collections and I was in funding when I was informed she was coming to my department and I would be training her. "Hell no, and you can fire me” I said. Management wouldn't listen and kept saying we'd make a good team (yeah rolling around on the floor beating the crap out of each other).
I'm odd. I can dislike someone in business and still help him or her be a success, so of course I helped her and answered all her questions. I have a very dry sense of humor that Marie picked up on ... shock of all shocks she began to really like me and we ended up being best friends. My department rocked with her skills...shows you what I know...and Marie gave me some of my best hilarious work stories to date. She didn't take crap from anyone and often sprang to her feet if she thought anyone was giving me a hard time.
I'd love to write more about this...there are some great stories here...but Brian is with his Daddy and I have a busy weekend planned that I would like to begin. Saturday I will be in the city I love..SF..with a friend..;-) ..what to wear...what to wear...
Until next time-
CMy x husband's friend and real estate broker stopped by the office today. He is so Irish and soooooooo adorable, and of course I have no make up on, am wearing an old pair of jeans and this shirt I don't like but don't have to iron.
Not even lipstick. JAYSUS.
Maybe I should be more grateful...after all this time spent nursing kitty I could have been coughing up a fur ball when he walked up to me...
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Blonde after sex: "Oh that was great! Love you...wanna marry?"
Brunette after sex: "Next!"
Redhead after sex: "I think you better start taking some VITAMINS."
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It has been a while since I enjoyed the beach with my son, so today, on a whim; I packed a picnic lunch, put the dog cart in the back of my truck and packed us off to Portuguese Beach. It was the perfect holiday drive, through giant redwoods, dormant vineyards resembling mini brown skeletons and the view of the Russian River, wide and looming.
The tiny communities along River Road are recovering. If one doesn’t look close, one might miss the scattered remnants of the flood clean up. Every now and then a small pile of furniture, sits on some obscure highway corner, waiting for this week’s garbage crew. All in all, much of the River community looks as it always does, rustic, quiet and peacefully beautiful. A testament to those who have survived many floods and are able to bounce back within just a few short weeks.
It was the perfect ocean day for Sonoma County. As the truck cleared the top of the highway near Goat Rock, the ocean stretched out before us until it met the sky. The clouds seemed as high as the stars and the wind faded to a soft whisper, barely noticeable. No one was at Portuguese Beach, which gave Brian and I one long beach-front to ourselves, along with Boonie, the dog. Boonie is a wave chaser and I laugh as she weaves her way through the white foam of the tide. A waterfall from the road carves a stream that sweeps out to meet the crashing ocean waves. It is the perfect paradise for a 10-year-old boy.
I place my lawn chair at the top of a sand hill and walk the length of the beach and back. Brian creates driftwood races in his private river and Boonie runs wild trying to conquer and kill the ocean. She has big ideas for such a little dog. The crashing waves sound like cannon fire. It restores my soul. I love being near water. I cast my eyes at the homes upon the hill and imagine Brian and I climbing the steps to one of them as if it is our home. We would light a fire, I would make some soup, and we’d curl up in some soft over-stuffed furniture and watch the sunset, chatting and laughing about our afternoon on the beach.
As I take my chair and reach for my book, I pause to watch Brian play in his imaginary world he has created. It is pure pleasure to watch boys play…the adventure…the focus…the spirit. How they survive having to sit in classrooms all day I will never understand. Boys are meant to move and conquer. They live such a rich experience when they are allowed to be outdoors. It is something to behold, and very different from girls.
I could watch him for hours, like a great stage play, with Boonie, his faithful stead at his side. There are sword fights and killings, destruction of castle walls and the conquering of foreign lands. He finds a large piece of drift-wood in the shape of a bazooka, which he launches imaginary laser explosions from -complete with sound effects. Boonie is right there at his side digging holes and biting water. I am sure she is killing the enemy before they reach her hero, Brian.
It seems the ocean restores us all, as even Boonie seems to carry a constant grin. I try to read my book, but I am too distracted by the beauty of the day and the fact that we have this beach to ourselves. I rise from the chair to collect driftwood pieces for my garden; chase Brian through the river and collect small unusual shells. I stand guard over Brian and Boonie as we near the surf, as today the tide is deadly like the devil beckoning us into the mouth of hell. I am not seduced, as I know this ocean well and the number of lives claimed here every year. I instruct Brian on what a rip tide looks like by demonstrating with a piece of heavy driftwood which I toss into a crashing wave. It is immediately sucked under the tow and popped up on the other side of the high crashing surf and then beat to death by pounding waves.
We enjoy ourselves to the point where time stands still. I become chilled and realize the sun is beginning to set, and we missed Brian’s daily after-school tutoring session. Tutors do not take holidays. OOPS!
The drive home was far shorter than the ride there. Ioften wonder why that is. I am sure it is some mathematical theory having to do with anticipation plus impatience equals more miles. We reached our home in darkness, satisfied that we enjoyed a truly wonderful day. Brian races for the shower leaving me to unpack the truck, which leads to another mathematical theoryhaving to do with less, is more. Why does it seem that far less goes into packing for a short trip than unpacking?
I am now ready for my work week...of course it will take a week to quit finding sand in obscure places...
Until next time-
C
My writing muse is a little lost this weekend, part I am sure due to nursing a very sick kitty, cleaning house, and playing with Brian, and part because of my feelings about Annabel kitty having a thyroid disease.
Even though thyroid diseases can be hereditary, they are an autoimmune disease, which means that something happens to the immune system and it turns on itself and begins to attack organs. In Annabel’s case it is her heart, then liver. Which makes me wonder if we have been exposed to something in our environment that has compromised our immune systems…? …
A year ago the bathtub and tiles were replaced due to water leaking around the old ties and getting behind to the wood within the walls. When the tile was removed, black mold was thriving within the wall. A contractor came to replace the shower, and he cleaned and treated the interior walls and joints. The smell of the mold is something I will never forget. As soon as he had pulled the old shower and tile out, the smell was over whelming. It gave me an extreme headache, and I never get headaches.
We live at the bottom of a hill that is an oak forest, it is always damp.
I don’t know… I just don’t know.
And I am also bone exhausted so who knows how clear my thinking is.
As I gently force-feed a very sick kitty, make sure she takes medicine and is comfortable, help Brian with his algebra and a book report, do two loads of laundry, fix dinner and do the dishes, I see how little time there is in my life for anyone else. The days are filled with daily duties, which people who have never had children are clueless to even begin to understand.
The characters for my book rattle around my head, as there is no time to sit and create them on paper this week. It is a single mother's world. I wouldn't trade it for anything; just sometimes I notice what it looks like. I am told someday the duties will lift, freedom will abound and I will cry over these days filled with children, laundry, homework, sporting events, birthday parties, Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, the Easter Bunny, bruised knees, bagged lunches, pets, goldfish, unmatched socks, star wars, video games, wet towels on the floor, holes in pants, taxi driving, grocery shopping for food that I will never eat, clothing shopping for clothes that will be outgrown within a couple of months, and plastic cups and wrappers in my vehicles.
I will believe it when I see it.
C
And my doctors want me to take real good care of myself HA!
Annabel was barely breathing when we arrived at the Vet and I was sure I was going to lose her before we got into the Vet's office. They took one look at her and swept her off to emergency.
Tough girl that I am...I burst into tears in the middle of the waiting room.
The word from the Vet so far is that Annabel has Feline Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, which means disease of the heart muscle. There are known causes, and this is where it gets creepy with this very special cat. One known cause is a type of thyroidism (hello which we all know I have been suffering from) which leads to thyroid cancer. Luckily for me we stopped this from happening because we caught my thyroid problem before it was chronic. It leads in heart failure in humans too, which is why I must pick and chose my exercises and diet carefully. HOW WEIRD IS THAT?
They are running further tests on Annabel and I will write more later. They did drain the fluid that was forming around her lungs and administered some pain medication so she is resting and doing well. They did go ahead and give her medicine for the thyroid - heart failure and she is doing much better. It is funny because we all want our pets to die in comfort, but refuse to do the same for humans.
C
As busy as our lives can be, sometimes objects of our affection become sick right before our very eyes, leaving us wondering how, and when it started to happen. It happened for my mother, who as a top sought-after Nurse working for an amazing Doctor dealt with my dad's upset stomach for years before finding out it was esophagus cancer with an extremely high mortality rate. She was so used to saving people, it was difficult to understand how this could happen in her own home, right under her nose. When did he get so sick?
In the Spring of 1992, my x husband and I stopped at a local heath fair to wander and enjoy a relaxing Sunday afternoon. As we approached the entrance there was a woman with a calico tabby cat in a cage and a sign, which read, "Free To the Right Owner". She was interviewing candidates for this cute calico cat. My x husband (who could rescue every animal in the free world if he could) naturally stopped out of curiosity. I hung back; as I know all to well once I touch an available animal I am tempted to own it.
The cat stretches her paw out of the cage and hooks the sleeve of his shirt holding on for dear life. The woman who owns the cat, spins around, smiles and says, "She wants you!" "Oh good lord" I thought, as about 15 other people standing talking to her about the cat, shoot my x and I dirty looks. He comes to me "Want a cat?" "We have a dog" I respond. As it was, I was walking the dog every night, feeding and bathing her even though he had brought the dog into our relationship. "Louise (the dog) loves cats!" he answers. ‘Really?’ I thought. Louise the dog loves to attempt to kill skunks, moles, birds, possums, and raccoons with great zeal so I can't imagine her loving a cat.
I told him we needed to talk about it since I don't like making snap judgments, so we walked away to enter the fair. I said, "If she is there when we leave - it was meant that we take her home with us". I was sure she would go to one of the people in the crowd that stood admiring her. My x husband never hurried through so many booths in his life. Upon leaving (which I swear was no more than 10 minutes), the cat was still there. The woman was contemplating giving her away at that moment as my x husband shouts, "We will take her!" Everyone turns, as the owner smiles with delight and answers "She is yours". Again, we get about 10 dirty looks as people walk off in a huff. I want to yell, "IT'S JUST A CAT PEOPLE!" Instead, I cuddled Annabel up in my arms and smiled. She was as soft as a cloud…and what a LOUD purr. It sounds like a hot rod engine.
That is how Annabel came into our lives.
Annabel was just over a year old. The woman gave us food, a bed and a carrying cage. Annabel was fixed and up on all her shots. Annabel was a feral kitten the woman rescued from under her porch. She lived on a busy highway; since Annabel loves being outdoors she was worried a car would eventually hit Annabel. She wanted to find her a home where she could roam outside. We just happened to live in a cottage in the country...
Annabel is the most wonderful gentle soul who lives to love everyone. She purrs so hard, she drools. We like to call her 'drooly kitty' over Annabel, which she responds to as if it is her given name. As it turns out, Louise the dog loved her and they often went hunting together ridding the property of any vermin they felt didn't belong. They loved to leave the evidence of the kill at the front step for us to admire. Uggg.
When Brian was born, Annabel changed to sleeping under his crib as if protecting him through the night. If he started to fuss, she would get up, come into our bedroom and meow telling us we needed to wake up and tend to Brian. As Brian became a toddler he would often carry her butt side up, as she would purr through the whole process, as if to say, "It's ok, he's just my boy".
In the most painful times of my divorce, she often crawled into my arms as if to say, "I know your heart hurts" and purrs so loud I forgot my troubled thoughts. She has slept with Brian, always wanting to protect him through the night. She spends her days from sun up to sun down, outside in the wilderness as if she is part lion. She is just not a cat you can keep inside. Sun bathing is her favorite daytime pastime and you can usually find her in the warmest hidden corner of the garden, curled in a ball with the sun beating down its rays of warmth.
After my divorce, when I could no longer afford the cottage in the country, it was time to move Brian in town so he could have more of a city life with friends. My x husband agreed to retrieve Annabel while I moved and set up the new place. I never thought moving would upset Annabel. She is so easy going and loving. When he went back to the cottage to retrieve her, Annabel had disappeared. We tried for weeks to find her, leaving food out - even to the point of setting traps, but all we ever caught were raccoons.
The new people at the cottage agreed to call us if they spotted her, which happened often, and I would race to the cottage only to find that she had disappeared again. This went on for a year - much to the great sadness of Brian, who at 4 could not understand why his drooly kitty abandoned him.
Then Christmas Eve came and I had a strange gut feeling. Christmas Eve has always been a magical night for me for as long as I can remember. I told Brian, "Did you know that Santa grants wishes on Christmas Eve?" "He does?" Brian asks wide-eyed. "Oh yes Brian, he does. Let’s close our eyes really hard and wish for Annabel to come back home to us for Christmas." We closed our eyes, made our wish, and at sunset got into my truck and drove over to the cottage. We got out and called and called her “Annabel…Annabel…kitty… kitty….droooooly kitty…her drooooooly kitty.” I began to think that I may have set Brian up for an awful Christmas Eve disappointment, and was about to become his great Christmas liar, when out from the field comes this thin version of our Annabel.
I cautioned Brian, as she had not seen us for a year and I wasn't sure if she turned wild so I gently approached her, but she would not come to me. Instead, she went to Brian who scooped her up, kissed her, and she started to drool. We brought her home on Christmas Eve, back where she belonged. For all you skeptics that don't believe in the magic of Santa Claus anymore, I can say that it does exist. Brian was on top of the world. It was wonderful to have drooly kitty back with us.
Ever since Christmas Eve those 5 years ago, Annabel has been happily making friends with everyone who comes to visit this little complex we now all call home. Different neighbors feed her treats; others give her loving pats and some even let her into their home. We have called her the ambassador, because she never lets anyone leave the complex without a meow and some love. We jokingly refer to it as "Forced loving" because no one could sneak by Annabel without a love. Even those that don't like cats love Annabel. She is just that kind of soul.
But lately our Annabel has become very thin, thinner than is normal for a pet that always has food available. I have even begun feeding her wet food mixing it with fish oil and egg yolks to see if she would put on weight. She is 14 years old, but is looking 18. I had to sit down this week and really watch her. To my shock (with all her loving, acting much the same, going in and out) while examining her close I can see she is painfully thin. Her breathing is heavy and her purr sounds like an asthma attack. I have been through this enough to know...
Our Annabel is dying.
I told Brian that I feel Annabel is very ill and had him notice the conditions I was seeing. Brian cried, and I explained that Annabel has lived a long and wonderful life. I called my x and told him my thoughts and asked him to come examine her. He has been a dog breeder and has a vast experience with animals. He came over this morning after Brian was in school and we watched Annabel together. Her breathing is heavy and hard. She is so thin that the act of breathing makes it appear that her ribs might break with every breath. This doesn't stop her from getting up on his lap and drooling her love all over him.
Her fur is thick, but it hangs on her body like someone who has tried on a fur coat three sizes too big. My x looks up at me as he feels her body, "Damn she is so thin." "I know, and I am feeding her three times a day, but it changes nothing" I reply. He looks me in the eye "I think our Annabel is very, very ill" "I know" I answer as tears begin to roll down my face. I have seen this before with the pets I grew up with. “Have you prepared Brian that she might be dying?” he asks, holding back his own tears. “Yes, and I told him we need to take her to the vet to see what is wrong .... and sometimes they don’t come back home from the vet. Brian wants to be a part of the decision” I answer. He nods in agreement.
This is where my x can be handy, as he says, "Let me go talk to the vet". He left the house and went to see the Vet who is a friend of his. Annabel will see the vet at 9:00 tomorrow morning. My feeling is that it is either a tumor or feline leukemia and we will have a choice to make. This is when Brian will be taught to understand the cycle of life. I already know this will break his heart as it does mine. Sigh, these are the times our children begin to see the painful side of growing up.
If she has to go I wish we could bring her home and bury her in the garden where she loves to lie amongst the burial memorials of the dead goldfish, tadpoles, hermit crabs we tried to raise without success. It is under this little clearing where the flowered branches meet, next to my pink rose bush just under Brian’s bedroom window. There is a Celtic cross statue that sits toward the back, against a flowering lily of the valley. The afternoon sun warms this spot upon the ground and Annabel loves to curl up there like a rounded rock in the garden. Of course the bird bath is not far to the left as she dreams of a bird wandering into her paws, but not motivated enough to actually hunt them.
As city ordinances go, they don’t allow an animal to be buried on property unless they die at home without much fan fare for officials to notice. I am still not able to wrap my head around the idea that we may have to decide to put her down. I have never thought of Annabel leaving us. She is a cat who has reinvented her life several times now, and most of all…
She's family.
Until next time-
C
An old man of ninety was sitting on a park bench sobbing with his face in his hands. A policeman noticed this, stopped and asked him if he was ok.
"Well," says the old fellow, "I just got married to a forty-five year old redhead. Every morning she makes me a wonderful breakfast and then we make love. In the afternoon she makes me a wonderful lunch and then we make love. At dinner time she makes me a wonderful supper and then we make love. At bedtime, she tucks me in and then we make love"
The policeman looks at the old man and says, "You shouldn't be crying! You should be the happiest man in the world!"
So the old man says, "I know! I'm crying because I don't remember where I live!"
This afternoon the writers club convened in downtown Santa Rosa. I enjoyed the company of some wonderful literary people who take my writing very seriously - more than I do, which is a good thing. At the gathering the woman next to me held her publishers copy of her first book and I loved every bit of it. I was excited for her and we sat in the back of the group ogling over it. She was positively beaming. I was elated for her as we became instant new friends.
Of course there are those in this group that are on book number 7. I never thought about what I am going to write AFTER I complete a first book... good lord. But they have lovingly pulled me into their fold and are pushing me through the writing process. What kindness they extend to someone just beginning their dream.
I am grateful for the events that transpired in 2005 that brought me to writing again, also for this blog, and these wonderful writers who are living my dream. I gave up Girl's Night Out, because it was more like Too Many Glasses of Wine Night Out. No matter how many times I tried to steer it into doing something inspiring that could possibly change lives (even ours). Alas, it remained all about martinis too strange to drink and toenails that needed painting. I exited stage left and Stephanie was not far behind.
I stopped drinking, gave up sugar (well...sugar most of the time) and removed myself from the circle of toxic people that surrounded me.... literally. It was quite liberating. Sometimes if we are not careful, we can end up in situations where people pretend they like us, when actually they have an agenda. Often, they have no plans for their own future, no passionate dream, no direction and little hope for a different life. They actually believe what they see on TV. They wish their lives resembled something right out of Desperate Housewives. They want to destroy other people so they have some drama to keep them from looking at their sad little lives. Except it isn't Desperate Housewives...it isn't even bottom of the barrel tabloid interesting.
So I went out and found a new life, which is slowly unfolding before my eyes. I can imagine after I have moved, returning here in 10 years and the people I am thinking of will still be living in the same place, doing the same dysfunctional drama. I will thank God that I am not here with them.
In my world there will be no guy trying for an extra-marital affair; no 'friends' who have 4 martini dinners every night trying to drown their day; no 'friend' beating her boyfriend up because she as too screwed up to admit it; no boyfriend beating a 'friend' up and the 'friend' going back to him; no 'friend' pretending to be happy in an unhappy relationship that involves only material objects – too afraid to leave; no working a job I hate to live in a place I hate more; no 'friend' living with someone who doesn't meet her needs or visa versa - too afraid to admit a huge mistake and get out, and NO drama...NO 'friend' drama…NO drama!
I want to be in my nice quiet life (with a sweet man and my contented son) doing what I love for a living, living a life surrounded by people living the same. We will be counting our blessings - not our curses. It is known as serenity, and people do live it.
I am sooooooooo looking forward to this year. It started looking better at the end of 2005 and in these first few weeks some interesting twists and new plot lines are already in the makings. Look out...I think the sun is beginning to appear...
Until next time-
C
The fog creeps over the hill outside the living room window like a dragon’s warm breath against the cold, weaving through the aging oak forest down into this valley below. It is the weather of Ireland, with crisp ocean air and damp mist, which blankets the landscape like millions of soft crystal beads thrown across a bare floor. One can almost picture a large knight with his silver maize and chest plate riding out from the forest to save his redheaded betrothed from eminent danger. The sound of the loud idling truck outside becomes the galloping sounds of the horse as hoves slam into the damp ground below.
It is the weather of magic and long lost stories, of danger and mystery, of heroes and villains. The rider’s face is white like the encroaching fog, as I have never met the man who will ride thundering into my life, crashing into my heart like the pounding waves of the ocean against a large rock. Prognosticators' have predicted his appearance for years, but as I look out into the world outside this window, all I see is the white fog languidly moving it’s way over the tall green grasses, disappearing into the ground from which it first appeared.
I imagine his hands are strong, slightly rough, yet gently firm as they move across my body pulling me close to his chin. There is an electricity that runs in the air between us, crackling like the embers of a well stoked fire. His voice is deep, and rough like his hands, but there is no bitterness to his words. His presence is calming and electrifying at the same time, like a fire can both warm and burn the body. He enjoys brushing his lips across the top of my forehead and moving his fingers down the side of my face, as if etching me to memory with his touch.
He stands just above me in height, his graying dark hair and deep eyes that twinkle of mischievous days of old. To look into his darkened marbled eyes bring a smile to my face and I feel safe, yet sexy. An aging warrior who has conquered his kingdoms, slightly tired and restless, who seeks out my pale, freckled arms to rest between them and to laugh at my funny stories. He finds love and tranquility as he places his head against my soft breasts and forgets the stresses of the outside world. He has found his maiden queen.
His kisses are firm, almost dry. His is tongue strong and gentle, as his lips encompass my mouth, taking in my own breath and tongue, melting me to him. He loves to kiss me, as if taking in my breath returns his aging body to the days when he was young as new life enters his soul. His feelings for me run deep. He believes his soul resonates with my own. He feels powerful and alive, content and at peace,he could stay within my arms forever.
Our naked slumber is deep and satisfying, the sound of his heavy breathing is reassuring. Time lulls to a standstill and the bed curves to the weight of his large frame, rolling me firm against him. He awakens, and ....
OIY... my red headed mind is all about sex these days.
Until next time-
C
