Giving Thanks

Ok yesterday we had a thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's that couldn't be beat and then came home for a quiet, relaxing evening, since we knew David had to work today. Alas this was not to be. the girls decided to make Macaroni and Cheese, and somehow in the process of pouring out the water, Eilish got scalded on her left hand and side. She did not cry out, just came to me showing me the already blistering hand. We put it on ice immediately and decided she needed a slightly higher level of medical care then we could provide at home. She was not dying, but in a great deal of pain, and the blistering and swelling were more then I felt comfortable just putting neosporin on. There isn't a bandage in the closet big enough for your whole hand either. That decided, we bundled said child and her hand, still on ice, into the car and drove to the local ER. Let me tell you now- you DO NOT want to go to an ER on a major holiday. The room was full full full of misery. I do not know the stories of the people who surrounded us, but I am sure they were as varied as can be. There were vomiting people which sort of scared me, and asthematic babies, and the families of those transported by ambulances. There was a man silently holding a gauze pad to his arm. All these groups and us, a mom, big sister and a 12 year old quietly writhing in her chair, while more and more blisters appeared on her hand.
WE spent hours there, and came home with a child on heavy drugs, her hand and side wrapped in gauze and a list of instructions for today.
So why the title of this blog?
When we left there was a lift in our step, and hope in our hearts. Eilish came home with us and did not need to stay in the hospital. She did not need surgery, or invasive tests. Her illness is not a lifelong affliction. She will surely remember this, and the effect might be visible for a long time, but she will recover. It also gave me a chance to again admire this child- the quiet one. She is here everyday, a part of our family and yet somehow she manages to NOT be the focus of attention very often, with her lively grey eyes, and giant heart. She leaves the spotlight to others, and continues on her way for the most part a happy carefree child. There is a warrior's heart there, brave and strong as well as warm and loving. I am so proud that she is my daughter, and I can't wait to see the lovely young woman she will become.

My Sweet Prince

Fred. Where to start?
Several years ago, David and I were out in the front yard and he said to me "Something died over on top of the electrical box" As we got closer, a scraggly stray lifted his head and meowed at us. And Fred entered our lives, just like that. I was adamant about NOT adopting another cat- we already had our quota, I thought and this one was scraggly and unkept. Fred would not give up, he hung around, waiting me out. Finally, one dreary day by sympathy for him overtook my good sense, and I took him to the vet for his first check up and invited him in. Let me say, Fred cleaned up well. The first visit to the vet she checked him several times, her disbelief that he wasn't chipped my first indication that perhaps he wasn't just a scraggly ragbag. He was in fact, a ragdoll- long luxurious fur that felt more like angora then cat hair. Crystalline blue eyes, and low muscle tone- he literally looked boneless when resting. He was neutered (yaaay!) and declawed (Boooo!) when we got him and the declaw apparently gave him phantom pain as he was forever sharpening those nonexistent claws. We had him tested for Feline diseases, immunized and de-fleaed and let him into our home, family and hearts.
Along with his matted hair, he had walked holes in his paws to get to us- the pads took over a year to heal even a little and he forever after walked delicately, as if the eggshells under him could break at any moment. He walked as little as possible in fact, earning him the title of 'decorative pillow with a heartbeat'.
We had no idea what his name was, so in a fit of whimsey, I named him Fred after the Bob & Tom Show song with the line "His name was... We didn't know what his name was, so we called him Fred!" A silly name for a Royal cat, but it stuck, and he never seemed to mind it. We never did learn where he had come from. There were many theories, but we suspect he was the cat of an elderly relative that somehow got lost or thrown out after she died. He showed signs of overbreeding, and always expected the worst from most people, but slowly he gained trust in us, and I would like to think affections and love.
From the start, he was a prickly character who took revenge against those who displeased him with princely vengeance.
He decided early on that I was his person and he even got into a battle of wills with David about sharing me which got him banned from our bedroom for taking revenge directly ON David's pillow. Ahem. The children he tolerated, despite the fact that it had been their begging that got him in the house in the first place. Instead I was his long before he was mine. He followed me, and his favorite perch was next to my computer, with his head on my 'mouse hand'. If I was not giving him what he thought was his due amount of attention, he would gently nip me, the nips getting progressively stronger, until I put my homework aside, and admired His Excellency. This makes him sound aloof and cold- well he could be. But he loved me with a depth that still brings tears to my eyes. His purr was rusty with disuse, but when I heard it, it always ALWAYS made me smile. His presence was desired and cherished.
There is a quote from The Little Prince by the wise old fox "Les hommes ont oublié cette vérité, dit le renard. Mais tu ne dois pas l’oublier. Tu deviens responsible pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé." which means "Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."
And so, I propose the idea that Fred tamed ME. Through the daily rituals of shared life, over several years. Remember, I did not WANT him at first. And now I wish he was back with all my heart.
This fall we had a flea epidemic at the house. I tried everything I could think of to get rid of the fleas, including all the organic measures I know or could look up, as well as Frontline, and collars. We still have the $%^& things. Seriously. Diamtaceous Earth has helped the most, but not killed them all, and Fred hated it. At one point I put some flea treatment on everyone, and put them on the front porch to reclean the house and let the fleas hop off outside and Fred remembered the outside. He had not willingly gone outside in years- I suspect he was afraid we would not let him back inside. So he started asking to go outside, coming in only at night. He had several favorite perches outside, under the gum tree, and in my garden next to a frog shaped planter. I worried about him outside, claw-less as he is, and everything managed to get stuck in his soft fur. He seemed happy outside, but was getting thinner which he really could not afford. He wasn't acting sick so I talked myself into thinking that it was just his new fascination with outside. We assumed when winter hit, he would come in and we could fatten him up then. Suddenly he took a major turn for the worse, and there was no return- renal failure was quick. It was fast and dizzying- he was with us and now he is gone. I will never be the same, and we are all the better for having known our mysterious royal visitor. Be well, sweet prince and may your days be filled with the royal treatment you so deserve- I will never see cotton, or blue skies again without thinking of you with love and yearning.

Taking a Chance on Life

When I was in High School, my standard answers to "What are you going to do after graduation?" were rather pat.
If it was just someone I said "be a cloud" because that got me out of the conversation. If it was someone I needed to be more polite to, I just said "go to college" Rather bland, but it worked.
We went to visit an elderly relative fairly often. He was a little, VERY elderly man- my grandmother's cousin. He never had a positive thing to say about anything and I didn't expect that this visit would be any different. The sun (too bright) was shining through the windows of his overdecorated parlor, making the dust motes dance pleasantly as I wandered, listening to my Dad and Uncle talking (too much) in the (too cheerful) kitchen. Harold had followed me into the parlor and asked me the fatal question about my future plans, and got the bland answer.
Then -surprise!- he didn't complain about college students which was what I was expecting. He leaned toward me and said "When I was a young man, I was offered a job with the circus." He had MY attention! Animated as I had never seen him, a grinning Harold told me that in those days, the circus didn't use canned (recorded) music- they had an orchestra that travelled with them. Harold played various instruments, mostly the clarinet. He had been offered a job with the orchestra. the Circus travelled all over the Northeast and he rattled off the cities on the tour. The performers had made him feel welcomed, and he told me, grinning, about the folks he would be travelling with. It was obviously a joyous memory!
Breathlessly, I asked how long he had the job, travelling with the circus? There was a pause where all I could hear was the low rumble of the voices in the kitchen. Then he told me, in the tone of a confession that he didn't go with the circus. He had a job already in the local shoe factory, and his parents advised him to keep that steady income. His girlfriend, who later became his wife, didn't want him travelling all over the North East with exotic people. So he turned down the job. There was another pause while I thought of that, and I watched the animation fade from his face as if it had never been there. The clock in the hall rang the hour, and then he slowly told me his final secret. "I have wondered ever since, what my life would have been like, if I had run away with the circus." Harold was in his nineties, and this had happened to him before he was 20... over 70 years he had mourned this lost chance to leap into the unknown! No wonder he had become a brittle, unhappy man. I decided then and there that if the opportunity to take a leap entered my life, I would rather take the chance -even if it meant falling- then to have to spend 70 years second guessing my choice.
I know he saw the change in my eyes, and he gave me a conspirator's nod as we wandered back to the kitchen, acting like my life was not forever altered. He never again treated me like the bored child I had been, but always listened to me as if I had something to say. And I have never forgotten the lesson learned.
Of course, when your life plan is to take leaps off cliffs, sometimes you land safe, and sometimes you splat in spectacular ways. But those are the stories for other Journal entries.
For today- think about choices and the bravery it takes to make them.
~D

Trying to journal again

There is something in me that wants to be successful at keeping a journal. I keep starting them and starting them with the very best of intentions but the follow through is abysmal. So here I go again! Does hope spring eternal or am I just a slow learner?
What to write about? I am a Graphic Designer near Charlotte NC and I have not had much luck finding the type of work I want- as a mom of four, I am only looking for part-time and everyone acts like that is a crime for some reason. A lot of my classmates have not had a lot of luck finding work either, but the ones who have are young folks who are willing and able to put in 50-60 hour weeks. My kids have to have more of my time then that. I am still looking, and trying to add some freelance work to my day. I am also doing some professional photography which is exciting! I designed a logo for the parent group at North Carolina School for the Deaf, and created a cafepress store to sell mugs and shirts for them- I hope that raises money for the school! http://www.cafepress.com/PSO4NCSD is the link!
My portfolio is online also if anyone wants to see my other work- http://deesignnc.daportfolio.com/
That tells you several things about me- I am a mom and two of my children are Deaf. I am passionate about good design and I want to work in my field. I would LOVE to find work!
This journal is sort of directionless now but lets see where it ends up. Like my spirits, hope does indeed spring eternal.