R.E.M. at it's finest!

                “It’s the end of the world as we know it…it’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine!”

                Alright, so it was released 16 November 1987, thirty-three years ago. Michael Stipe is even posting on his web page on how to protect yourself and other people from getting and spreading this lovely thing! I watched it this morning and it was a good chuckle or two but still so true! So listen to R.E.M.!

                Right now I feel like I am living in a dream state. Having an out-of-body experience. Everything going on in this world right now is so surreal. Many of my readers know that I work in the lab at MMC (part of the NorDx family) and I work 12 hour shifts. Last weekend was my weekend so I was scheduled off for Monday and Tuesday, and then work Wednesday and Friday. Tuesday afternoon I got a call from my supervisor and he told me that I was furloughed for Wednesday, and I didn’t have to be back in the lab until Friday. Thank GOD that I will still be paid and not have to use my PTO.  Needless to say I did a little happy dance. Well, not really a little one; a large one. Part of me is a bit thankful that I am just getting a little bit of time to myself and not having to deal with too many people. Granted, I am so blessed to be living with two of the people that I love the most, my Mom and Dad (and my psycho-Chihuahua, Peanut.) I don’t know, maybe this Social Distancing thing is a blessing in disguise.

                I’ve been able to clean up a few things and go through some more piles of stuff that have been conglomerating. I wish that it was a bit warmer and a bit better weather because I so want to go down to the storage shed to get rid of more stuff! I also want to find my “chemistry” set. It’s a beaker, Erlenmeyer flask and test tubes to use as shot glasses. I so want to have that out here in the Yellow Room! I really love it. My “Baby Brother” and his wife gave it to me a few years ago while I was still down on Alderbrook. They gave me that and the “Grimmerie” from the musical “Wicked”. Two of my favorite little things!

                But anyway, back to where I had started! I have had quite a bit of stuff going on in my life over the past six months. The one thing constant for me has been my work at the lab. As insane as working in a lab can be at some times, that is the one thing that has been my sanity. And now with all that is going on I am full of trepidation of what is going to come. My heart is hurting for all of those on the “front lines”. The doctors, nurses, PA’s, CNA’s, Environmental Services; all of those who are literally on the front lines. We lab peeps are the ones who do almost all of the testing on these patients, but what we get comes in sterile containers, or blood in vacutainers or blood culture bottles that are already collected. That is what we Lab Folk primarily play with. We do not do the COVID-19 testing at my current location; those get sent down to Scarborough. However, part of me wishes that we could so that testing right there so that the doctors would be able to know what they are dealing with.

                It is scary. In some ways this is very scary. I had a very detailed talk with my parents this afternoon. I told them that when things get hairy for me at work I have absolutely no qualms about quarantining myself in my “half” of the house. I want my parents to be safe. My parents have given so much to me in my lifetime, but especially in the last ten years since my divorce. Many of you know how much I so love and adore my parents for all that they have done for me throughout my growing up, but in the last 14 years of my life. My divorce was not pleasant. No divorce is. But, with the help of my parents I have survived it. Yes, I am currently residing with my parents. Yes, I help them out financially however I can. But I am still, ten years later, trying to dig myself out of the hole that I was in I am getting there. And now I am trying to help MY daughter climb out of her hole. It is like a skipping record (and by saying that I know that I am dating myself).  I am so, so blessed to have the parents that I do. I am so enjoying residing with them. I even just ordered an updated recorder so that I can sit down with my parents and interview them. I want to interview my aunts and uncles and hear and record their stories. I want to be able to write it all down. I am sure that many of you know how genealogy has become my sanctuary. Of course my Wesleyan beliefs are a part of my sanctuary, but looking into the lives of my ancestors is a sanctuary, too.

                In my genealogy research I found out that my Grandpa Zarecki was a Pathologist at Lynn Memorial Hospital in Lynn, Massachusetts before WWII started. This was pre-penicillin. Pre-automation. You Lab Peeps reading this know what I am speaking of. Almost every day that I am at work I wonder what my Grampa would say to me about the medical technology that we work with today. I am sure that he would be very proud of me. My Gramma was a nurse. Medicine, and teaching tends to run in my family. And for that I am very grateful.

                I want to take this opportunity to thank all of those who read this for putting up with my rambling. I know that I have been. I thought that these “Stay at home” orders that have been issued to hopefully “flatten the curve” would be good to help me write more. I think that I was vastly wrong. However, the writing of my emotions and feelings helps me to feel better in the inside. In my head. In my heart. In my soul. I pray that when I get to the lab tomorrow that I can do what I usually do; leave all of my emotions at the door and when I put on my lab coat just concentrate on the patients that I am there to help. I pray that my ancestors are proud of me. I know that my parents and my brother are.  I pray that my children are as well.

                I will continue to pray for everyone that we all stay well, and healthy. I pray that this virus will pass us all over. I pray that God will guide us all in our daily duties, especially those who are not able to work from home but still need to report every day. Those like me, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc., who serve people day after day. I pray that we all are able to stay free of this virus and be well.

                I am on the docket at the lab for tomorrow, but with being home all weekend I am sure that I will be writing more! To all of you, be well, stay safe and please, please, please take care you!

Gen X and COVID-19

                So I am a Generation X-er. Let me say that I love it! My little brother and I were, are, part of the generation that on a weekend Mom would say “Go outside and play” and we would. I have so many memories about growing up a PK (Pastor’s Kid) in rural Maine. For example, Jonathan (my “little” brother and I) would go outside in Bucksport with a magnifying glass and see how long it took to cook little red ants that lived under the steps. We would climb the big pine tree in the back yard and just hang out there. Literally. We would go down to the brook and hang out under the bridge. In Calais we would ride our bikes to the hospital parking lot and watch the ambulances come and go. Then on the way home we usually stopped to check on all the tadpoles in the brook behind the Senior Living Center that backed up to the Parsonage property. When I got too old for my Barbie dolls we used to tie them to a rope and throw them out of the hayloft in the garage and see how many berries they would bring back from the tree.

                Jon and I would play horseshoes and hang out in the blackberry patch behind the garage, pick them right off the stems and eat them there without washing them. And Jon and I are both still alive and healthy! We would walk or ride our bikes around town, go down to the convenience store with our allowance money and play video games and buy soda and gum. It was a very simple life. When Dad was appointed to Wilton and North Jay we would walk down to Wilson Lake or Kineowtha Park and hang out with friends there. Wilton was a really small town, but we had friends and got creative with ways to kill time. When I got into high school I joined the Marching Band my junior year, got my driver’s license and the “Green Machine” and sort of took off on my own. I had odd jobs, babysitting, mowing lawns, etc. so that I could earn money for gas and of course those lovely teen magazines! I know that somewhere I still have several boxes of NKOTB stuff packed away! I will worship Donnie Wahlberg ‘til I die!

                Wait, where was I going with this? Yes, now I remember! As I am sure that many of you know, I work in a laboratory setting. Right now I am with the NorDx labs at their Bramhall location right at Maine Medical Center in Portland, Maine. I am a generalist right now, but most of my career has been spent in Microbiology/Serology/Virology. I cannot tell a lie; those are my favorite parts of the lab. However, I have relearned, and learned so much in the last 19 months of my life. I am so grateful for that. Currently I do 12.5 hour shifts, but pick up extra time when I can. This past week I worked four hours Sunday and a full day on Monday. So I am right in the thick of all that is going on right now, not just in our country, but globally.  Thanks be to the Maker that I have had the past two days off to recoup and get ready for two days on duty!

                At the lab we usually have a screen up that shows the census of the hospital; how many people are on each floor, how many are in the ER, how many from the ER are awaiting room assignments, etc. While I was there on Monday, the overall census kept dropping. However, the ER was packed. What I learned was that there were several units in the ER that were quarantined for patients who showed symptoms of the lovely COVID-19 virus that is spreading like wildfire throughout not just the U.S.A. but the entire world as well. Almost every patient that came in to the ER would have the needed specimen collected to test for Flu A and Flu B and then send for the COVID-19 testing. We went through quite a bit of flu test kits that day. We even had to get another analyzer we were getting so many specimens! About half were positive for the Flu, the other half were sent on for further testing. According to the CDC people can be positive for both the Flu and the COVID-19!

                During my past two days that I have not been on duty I have been keeping in touch with co-workers who have been right on the front. From what I can gather things are a total zoo. It will be interesting to see what is going on tomorrow morning when I punch in. However, I am very grateful for the last two days that I have had here at home with Mom, Dad and my psycho-Chihuahua. I have been working on my puzzle (well, it’s “our” puzzle, right Mom?) and writing. I have so much in my head right now that I feel like it is going to explode.

                This is the first time that I as a Gen X-er have lived through something like this. I believe (from a quick check on Google) that the last major outbreak was in 2003, however that seemed to stay mostly in China. At that time I had three kids under the age of six and I don’t remember schools here in the USA totally shutting down. Now that my kids are all over the age of 18 I don’t pay as much attention to school closures, and usually those are due to snowstorms. However, this is so serious. Schools are shut down; I have a dear friend who is a librarian in Rochester, NY and doesn’t know if the schools will reopen before summer break. He is so glad he has a part-time job as well (that says something about America these days but that is a different blog: how people need more than one job to stay afloat in America these days). Right now I have many friends all over New England who now have kids at home full-time, be they high school age or younger, and they are all wondering what to do. Especially those with elementary school aged children. Do I risk my job to stay home with the kids? Do I try to find someone to watch them while I am at work, or do I stay at home and risk losing my job? There are so many questions right now that need answers.

                I am so blessed to know that I will have a job as I am in the medical laboratory profession. I will be ‘til I retire. However, the call-out list has been phenomenal. Whether it is people who are sick or need to be at home with their children I don’t know. However in watching the news more and more health care people are getting sick with this virus. I know that there is a massive shortage looming. I pray that the Man Upstairs watches over me to let me stay well so that I am able to assist these doctors in assisting the patients that so need help; be they those that have the COVID-19 or those with cancer, AIDS or other illnesses that need 24 hour seven day a week care. Sitting here being confined to home when I am not at the lab has given me so much time to think. So much thinking that my brain is actually hurting.

                I apologize if this Blog has seemed a bit rambling, but as I have said I just have so much in my head right now. I just got off the phone with my therapist who has had to cancel sessions due to this lovely virus. So now that I am not able to see here for about three weeks I will be doing a lot of writing and Blogging. This is in many ways like the Flu epidemic of 1918, except then we didn’t have the technology that we do today. I have been greatly impressed by what I have been seeing on Facebook; people at home with their children and family working on puzzles or playing games together. We, as a society have so forgotten how to do these simple things. Several weeks ago when my oldest and her boyfriend were up visiting we sat and played “Bananagrams” together for a while. It was so much fun; filled with laughter and just being together. We all need to do that more often. With this virus running ramped through our lives right now maybe this is the way of the Man Upstairs telling all of us to just be kinder to one another. To check on our neighbors; not just because of this virus but because this is something that we should do all the time. Make some extra dinner and bring some over to an elderly neighbor. Give a friend a call just to check in on them. Give a little extra to a food pantry. Just be good and “Do unto others as you would have done unto you.” Yes, that is the PK part of me coming out. I am so grateful to have been raised a PK. I didn’t quite get it when I was growing up, but the older I get the more thankful I am.

                I wouldn’t change a darn thing. I am so blessed to have been raised as a PK. To know right from wrong, to "do unto others."  And to quote the awesome TC from the Bangor Police Department’s FB page, “Keep your hands to yourself, leave other people’s things alone, and be kind to one another.”

                Dawnie out.

And the hits just keep on rolling...

It has been quite a while since I blogged. Wait, is that really a word? I think that it is. Anyway, I figured that I should get writing again. On here at least. Volume one is in the works. But I need to vent a bit. And writing is the best way. 

As many of you know I relocated up here to Southern Maine in August 2018. I now work for NorDx Labs, part of Maine Medical Center. It is all like Baystate Health Systems and Baystate Reference Laboratories down in Western Mass, just on a much smaller scale. There are 1.3 million people in the state of Maine, and 1.3 million people (or more) in Western Mass alone. I think that should give all a good idea. Anyway, it has its pros and cons as everything does. I have relearned so much and am so grateful for that! You all know how much I love what I do. It seems that medical professions seem to run in my family tree. However, I should get to the nitty-gritty. 

I am sure that several people out there know how full my Little Grey Cells have been the last thirteen months of my life. My oldest had a baby with her longtime boyfriend and then he ended up in jail for ten months due to a rape case that we didn't know existed until after my daughter was pregnant with little Milo. To cut to the chase, my daughter’s boyfriend beat the crap out of her, a restraining order was filed, but he still manipulated her to see him. So she left the baby alone, he was crying, neighbors called the cops, and my grandson was placed in foster care in Connecticut (which is where they were living at the time). Even though my daughter and her boyfriend stated in a meeting with me, my mother, the two of them and three people from DCF that they wanted Milo up here with me the Connecticut DCF would not have it. I could go on about how those people lied through their teeth to us, but that is another blog. 

So my grandson is down in Western Connecticut with his paternal grandparents, and we have to drive four hours down and four hours back to see him. My daughter and her current boyfriend who she has known since high school are here and there and everywhere. They have issues. They tried to start over up here in Maine, ended up back in Massachusetts for a few weeks, then back to Maine, back to Mass, to Connecticut and are now back in Massachusetts. Again, trying to document all the happenings would take me a long time to type. So, I guess that I should just cut to the chase.

While my daughter and her boyfriend were back in Connecticut they were bopping from place to place to stay, hanging out at the library and the shelters and were trying to find jobs. Wednesday night they were walking out and about (why they were stupid enough to be doing that I have ideas but seriously don’t want to acknowledge it) they got mugged and both ended up in the hospital. People found them and called 911. Thank God that there are some good people left on this Earth. My Mom was on her way down to visit with her sister, Dad was here with the Psycho-Chihuahua and I was at the lab when my daughter called Mom. Mom then called me, I called Daddy and to make a long story short (too late) I had to get an Uber driver to pick them up and drive them from Torrington Connecticut to Agawam Massachusetts where they have spent the past few days with my ex’s mother. She and I chatted last night, but when my daughter called me this morning and told me what was going on down there I think I had a small farm animal right in the kitchen. It’s a good thing that both of my parents weren’t here at the time. Just little ole me and the Psycho-Chihuahua, Then I start getting texts from my (former) M-I-L telling me that my daughter and her boyfriend can’t stay with her, how they need HELP and there is nothing that she can do because it ‘costs too much money”. Well, let’s address that statement shall we?

Last year in 2019 I paid Kia’s rent because she has issues where she can’t handle being around too many people at one time. That makes holding a job so difficult for her.  So I paid almost $10,000 in rent and electricity. My parents paid for internet. I paid for her cell phone. Which she trashed in one of her episodes. It will take me another eighteen months to pay that sucker off. At least the former M-I-L got her a new phone, which of course I will need to pay monthly. When the two Younglings were up for a visit this summer my parents shelled out almost $4,000.00 in getting them new clothing, shoes and glasses so they could see. I lost track of how much I gave them from my paychecks when they were here. Why did we do it all? Because they needed help. Both of them were adopted. They both have emotional baggage that I don’t think we will ever be able to totally comprehend. Don’t get me going about how those with mental issues need more help and more options. I don’t want to get on a political soapbox right now.

What is going to happen tomorrow? I don’t know quite yet. I am so at a loss. My head hurts. My heart hurts. All of me hurts. I am so blessed to be here with my parents. We had just started getting things back to normal and then this fit hits the shan. I’ve pretty much given up on finding “Prince Charming”. Right now I really could care less in that aspect because I have so much on my plate. Finally, finally I am seeing a therapist every other week. I am going to have quite a bit to shell out this coming Wednesday! After all the BS that happened between November and January things were just starting to get back to semi-normal. And then this all happens.

Many of you know that I am a Methodist. I will be a Methodist ‘til I die. A Wesleyan Methodist. Over the last twenty-four hours I have had two Psalms running through my head on repeat: Psalm 97: 1-7 and Psalm 121. Those are the two that I recite in my head when I am in this kind of situation. They bring comfort to my heart, comfort to my soul. And being a PK (Pastor’s Kid) and sharing a house with a retired pastor isn’t too shabby. But I need to find peace. I need to calm my head. I can’t stand it when it runs on over-drive like this. But it does.

So, now that I have cleared out a bit of space in my head I will go and work on my puzzle. And then make an early Lupper (lunch crossed with supper) for Mom, Dad and I. We will see what tomorrow shall bring. Thanks to all who read this blog.  I have always kept my heart very close to me, and closed in some ways. But in the last eighteen months since I moved “home” I have learned that I can’t keep it closed in. I need to share all my trials and tribulations, (hey! That’s from “Jesus Christ Superstar” and I LOVE that musical!). I need to share my successes so that other people who are walking down the same kind of path that I am know that we all can prevail. We may not see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it is there. We just all need to do a Dory; “JUST KEEP SWIMMING.”

Ten years ago today.

Praise the Lord and pass the martinis!

My “Little Grey Cells” and I have come a long way together in this world. Part of me is still a bit sad to be missing some of them, but another part of me is so glad those buggers are gone! Wait! A few of you reading this may be wondering what in Heaven’s name I am talking about. So I guess I should tell you!

Exactly ten years ago today, on this day, at roughly this time, they were wheeling me out of surgery to the PACU unit at Baystate Medical Center. My neurosurgeons, Dr. Paul Kanev and Dr. Oh had successfully removed the part of the left temporal lobe of my brain that had been causing my seizures for twenty-five years. My seizures started when I was just about eight years old. My Aunt Carolyn and cousin Joey were up visiting my family in Bucksport, Maine during a school break. It was a Sunday night; I remember because Joey, my brother and I were watching “The Magical World of Disney”. It was the cartoon that had Mickey, Donald Duck and Goofy riding around in a camper pulled by a car. (Needless to say it has now been thirty-five years and I still cannot bring myself to watch that cartoon again).

I remember sitting there with my brother and my cousin. All of a sudden my stomach did not feel very well. The next thing that I remember is that I was in Eastern Maine Medical Center and I was in the pediatric unit. I don’t remember much from when I was there. I remember seeing my Girl Scout troop outside waving at me with a sign that said “Get Better Soon”, but that is about it. I remember bits and pieces of the doctors playing with my anti-seizure medicines until they found one that worked well for me. I stayed on that medication until I was a freshman in high school, and then was weekend off of it.

I stayed off the tegretol until I was a sophomore in high school. I remember being out at Mr. Paperback with my bestest friend in the world, (yes, Stephi, this is for you!) and all of a sudden the mosquitos in Christmas lights started flying around. At least that is what they looked like. When I woke up in the ER, which by the way was just about across the street from the bookstore, I remember telling my mother that my head hurt. She said, “Well, you took out a bookcase with your head when you went down.” I still love books though.

Anyway, the anti-seizure cocktail got revamped, and I stated seizure free until I had graduated from college. Again, the cocktail got remixed, I couldn’t drive for about six months, but then all went back to normal. Until 1997. I was going to be getting married that fall, and my brain went funky again. This time I chose not to drive at all, so they let me keep my license for ID purposes. After another year or so when the neurons seemed to be firing in the right direction I was able to drive again. During this time my now ex-husband Nick and I adopted three beautiful children, bought a nice, big house to raise them in and life went on. Until the spring of 2005.

We had just bought a mini-van to be able to shuttle the kids around in. Then on our way to Kianni’s school for an out-door picnic I “went funny” while driving there. We were all okay (except for that massive hematoma that I got while having my blood drawn in the ER). So after that episode I had my license removed. Bugger.

I really don’t remember much of 2005 until December of that year. Nick had gotten me tickets to see the off-Broadway production of “Wicked” down in Hartford. We went to see it together. At the end of the first act while Elphaba was singing “Defying Gravity” all I could feel in my head and my heart was “Is she singing this for me?” At the end of that first act I looked at Nick with tears streaming down my face and said “I want the surgery.”

We then started the ball rolling. And he bought me a Yorkie that I named Elphaba.

February of 2006 I went through a five day EEG at BMC. However, they left me on my 4,800 mg of anti-convulsants for that time so my brain relatively behaved itself. In April of that year I went back for another five day EEG, but that Monday morning they took me off all the meds cold-turkey. By that afternoon I was seizing. By Wednesday afternoon I had had seventeen petit and grand-mal seizures. I remember coming out of one of them and hearing my father say “Isn’t this enough?” They put me back on the meds that afternoon and on Friday I went home hurting and exhausted.

June of 2006 I went in for a WADA test. This is when they put half of your brain to sleep to see how the other half works. With my being right-handed, the left side of my brain works the best for memory. They wanted to see if the right side could hold up its end of the bargain. The right side passed with flying colors. The left side failed miserably. Literally, the left part of my brain for memory was jello. In August of that year my neurologist Dr. House (William House, not Gregory House) called to let me know that I was a candidate for the temporal lobectomy. The “committee” approved, and on the 9 January 2007 I walked into BMC with my Dad and Nick, wearing my sweatshirt that said “Defying Gravity” and waited to be called in.

I remember being nervous, scared. I remember when they finally called me in and got me ready to go to the ER. Dr. Kanev came in to see me (every time I saw him all I could think of was Santa Claus) and asked me again if I really wanted to go through with it. With it being my temporal lobe the removal of brain matter could affect my speech. The area causing the seizures was so close to the area that controlled my speech. The last thing I said to Dr. Kanev was “Doctor, I don’t care if I can’t speak again and have to learn sign language. Just make the seizures stop.” I will never forget the look on his face. He said “Okay Dawn, I’ll see you in the Operating room.”

And the rest is history.

Thank you sir, may I have another...Brain, that is.

                My brain is overly full. Too full. I need to figure out a way to empty it.

                So here I am, in the living room, listening to “By Request…John Williams and the Boston Pops”. Actually, the theme to “Jaws” just came on. Appropriate for me writing, eh? But listening to music does help mellow out my over-filled grey cells. So, here I am, writing in my living room, with just the tree on for lights. Yes, I still have my Christmas tree up. Yes, it’s a fake, and yes, the tree brings me a bit of peace. I’ll take it down before the end of the week. But with the December that I had I need to enjoy it a bit more. I’m also thanking the Maker for the fact that I don’t have to be at the lab until Wednesday night as my brain is just so full. Overflowing full.

My parents came down this past weekend for my daughter’s birthday party. It was great that I was able to keep it quiet and they surprised the heck out of her. It was a fun afternoon, she had a few people over as she doesn’t like to have too many people around. We had cake and presents followed by her favorite; Chinese food. Okay, so we did things backwards. I think that’s how my family has always done things: backwards. Anyway, back to the little story. I finally sat down around eight p.m. or so and was playing on Facebook when I realized what day it was. January 9^th. It had been nine years ago that day that I had a chunk of my brain taken out. And I can literally say that I have had my brain flushed down the drain. I told Dr. Kanev that I so wanted to keep the chunk he would take out. I told him that I wanted to keep it in formaldehyde on my mantel so I could look at it and say “Ha! Brain I beat you!” But Dr. Kanev told me that it was so juicy that it wouldn’t work. It would have just been spatter floating around. So my brain literally went down to drain into the Springfield sewer system.

The time since my surgery seems more than nine years. It seems more like nineteen years. Hey, Jean VanJean and I are in the same boat! Not really, but it sounded cool. Anyhow, so much has happened to me in the last nine years. Found out my husband had been having an affair, got divorced, worked full time third shift for two and a half years, then had to deal with all the garbage that the kids were going through, court custody battle (which I lost by the way) and then dealing with my daughters hospitalization and recovery. She was so traumatized by the divorce and what my ex did. But that’s another blog. Now it’s just the two of us, the two psycho dogs and my job. My brain in many ways feels like it is overflowing. But there’s an empty hole. And I don’t know what to put in it.

I’m very trepidatious of moving forward with my life. The divorce between HWSNBN and I was quite traumatic for me. I’d experienced hurt before in my life, but nothing of that nature. Yes, I know that I made mistakes, but I tried to fix them. I gave it everything that I had. He just didn’t give back. And maybe that is one of the things that I am scared of. Giving again. Give, give, give. I gave so much then, I give so much to the kids. In going through all of this I have really been able to understand that which my mom went through being a Pastor’s wife and a mom to two wicked active kids. I’ve no idea how to go about the dating websites. Do I want to try that? I don’t know. Do I want to try this the old fashioned way by going to clubs or bars? I don’t know. There’s just so much in this head of mine that I don’t think I know much of anything anymore.

But I’ve got my friends. Ladies, you know who you are and I love you all. I’ve got my work. Bacteria, I love you, too! I love my kids, my family, my home, my psycho dogs. And I hope that there is another guy out there somewhere that I can love too. And who would love me back. No questions asked and take me the way I am. Maybe that’s what I need to empty my grey cells. Or just get another one.

Life as simple as a dog's.

     I'm sure that a few of you have heard about the unexpected new addition to our humble abode here in Westside. The night before Thanksgiving while I was at the lab at Whitney I got a call from Kianni while I was on dinner break.
     "Mama, don't be mad a me."
     "Why, what did you do now?"
     "Juan (her half-brother) gave me a puppy."
     "A puppy?" I had met the puppies. And they were wicked cute.
     "Can I please, please, please, please keep it?"
     "We will deal with it when I get home."

     Grrrrrrrrrrrrr......

     So, in comes Kobe. He's named after the NBA guy. Kobe is a Shit-zu, Pomerianian mix, so when I'm really mad at him I call him a "ShitzPom". He is really, really cute. No fur, all hair. He needs a hair cut. The vet says that he is in really good health, and has started getting all his shots and such. He totally does not like being potty-trained. In that aspect he is so not user-friendly. He doesn't like spending the night in his cage. And oh, does this dog have lungs. The only other puppy I've had was little Elphaba, and she was so much easier to train. She only whined about three or four nights, and trained very quickly. This guy on the other hand, no go. And the energy level is totally off the wall!
Peanut Butter is doing his best to stand his ground. Peanut turns seven this year and this poor little chihuahua is having a hard time dealing with another dog. Of course Peanut looks at Kobe when it's time for bed and I can see him saying "Hahahaha you little Newbie...I get to sleep downstairs with Mama. In her bed. Hahahahahaha!"

     So while my CRV Newberry has been getting his new shoes at the shop today I've been sitting here watching the doggies. Right now both are totally zonked her in the living room while I'm listening to the noon news and typing away. And I have found myself thinking about what it would really be like to be a dog. Sleep, pee, poop, eat, play and repeat. Over and over again. And get spoiled with baths, haircuts, you know the doggie spa treatment. People taking care of you. Wow. A simple life.

     I really wish that I could have some simplicity. Maybe when Kianni spends the night at a friends house that is as simple as my life will get right now. Like last night, She spent the night over at a friends house and they ride the same bus. And it was quiet here, save for the two psycho-dogs. So I putzed through the house, cleaning up a bit, doing dishes, sweeping floors, etc. And then bed. Once I get Newberry back it's back into Go-Mode, get ready for work, make sure the doggies have gone out and their dishes are full, remember my dinner for my night at the lab, etc, etc, etc. I've got a few more years before Kia has graduated and I can think about moving somewhere. I'd love to go back to Maine, but since I've gotten back into working at Baystate I really don't know if I want to leave Western Mass. I so love what I do. Besides, bacteria doesn't really talk to you You talk to it. But that's beside the point.

     I watch Kobe and Peanut and wonder what is going on in their little heads. What are the thinking? How do they see things? How do they understand things? What exactly do they hear when we speak to them? I wish that I knew more of how they operate. How do they see us? Are they thinking "Wow. That woman is totally off her rocker." I so wish that I could understand. And if things really are so simple for them than I wish I could be a little dog. For a day or two anyway.

   

The Spirit of Christmas

     "There's still meaning in the magic of Christmas, in the state where the Christmas trees grow. Where neighbors still drop by with cookies, breads and pies, and warm themselves beside the kitchen stove. It's the spirit of sharing, giving and caring, hanging wreaths upon your neighbors door. That's the Spirit of Maine at Christmas time, from her mountains to her great Atlantic shore."

     That song was released in 1987 and I remember the local radio stations and TV stations playing it a lot. The first time I heard it I fell in love with it. It would stay in the back of my head all year. I would love to get ready for Christmas. Growing up a PK (pastor's kid) getting ready would really start a bit before Thanksgiving. I was a total PK growing up, the good girl. I remember kids asking me if I carried a bible in my backpack. Now that I think back on it I should have: if I'd ever knocked one of those many bullies with that backpack I would have left a mark. Especially if it was a hardcover edition. Anyway, being a PK had it's good points. I would love to help my dad run off the bulletins down in the basement (pre-photocopier). I would fold them to get ready for services. During the holiday season I would help put together the Christmas dinner baskets in the food pantry, which was in the parsonage basement when we lived in Wilton, Maine. I remember the congregation doing carol rides through town on an old wagon. In the snow. I remember singing downtown by the statue near the old Bass factory.

     I remember how much I loved Christmas Eve with my Dad. We would always go to the early service as a family. Then afterwards we would come home, fold bulletins for the late service, open our Christmas Eve present, and then I would almost always go to the late communion service with Dad. I almost always sang at one of the services. I would sing "All is Well" by Michael W. Smith. Dad told me one year that the song reminded him of me so I learned it with the choir director. I liked doing that for Dad. One of my most favorite pictures of me and my dad was taken Christmas Eve one year in Wilton. I think I was in college at the time, and it was snowing. Mom took a picture of dad and I out in the snowy night. I love that picture.

     Winter and Christmas has always been my most favorite times of year. When HWSNBN and I were married he really didn't care much for the Holidays, but at least he let me delve into it. I love to bake for the holidays. Especially the Sterndale "Fruitcake" and all the cookies that I bake for Uncle Richard next door. I decorate like crazy, start playing Christmas tunes in October, the whole shebang. But this year was different. This year was the Christmas that Naissa and Jay would be in Colorado with their dad, and my brother and his wife would be in St. Louis. So it woudl have been just mom and dad and Kianni and me. The Sunday before Christmas I had gone over to the Delaney House for the Second Shift Microbe luncheon, and I admit, I had quite a few mimosas. I got home mid-afternoon, did some chores and then sat down to veg when my Dad called. My mom was on her way to the hospital; she was having a heart attack. Dad wouldn't let me come up to see her (and that's probably good because I was in no condition to drive three hours) but said that he would keep me posted. Mom ended up having an angioplasty done Monday morning, and Kianni and I drove up to spend the Holiday in Maine, Mom had a rough few days, and was back in the ER on Christmas Eve due to massive pain, but she was home for Christmas. We had a very mellow day, and a great dinner, but for some reason I just didn't feel it. I mean FEEL it. Understand. Revel in the birth of Christ. It just didn't seem right.

     I'm not sure why, I know that what happened to Mom had something to do with it. I know that all the uncertainties happening in my life right now has a hand in it. And the way my brain thinks and tends to blow things out of proportion doesn't help either. My head is just so full. Overflowing. Overburdened. I guess I just really need simplicity. While growing up in rural Maine I always said that I was going to get back to civilization. I would revel in that song by the BeeGee's "Massachusetts" I always said that when I got older that I was "going home". Well, now I'm older. And now I really want to go "home". I want to go back to the simplicity of Maine, I want to go back to the nature and the quietness of it. I want to go back to where neighbors are more friendly. I want to go back to where those neighbors do drop by with cookies, breads and pies and have a cup of coffee while standing around the kitchen stove. I remember doing that, most dearly when we would be in Lubec at the McCarthy's. But that's another blog. In essence, tonight I will simply be sitting here in my living room, with Christmas carols playing; hey, I've got two more full days until Epiphany, and will relish in every minute of it. And in my head I will dream of being back where "that's the Spirit of Maine at Christmas time, from her mountains to her great Atlantic shore."