3rd Sunday of Advent

 From Saint Paul in his letter to the Philippians,
"Brothers and sisters:
Rejoice in the Lord always.
I shall say it again: rejoice!
Your kindness should be known to all.
The Lord is near.
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."

My Reiki Master

   My sister-in-law, fellow thespian, and dear friend Debbie is a Reiki Master, Reflexologist, and Yoga Instructor http://debbieblauss.abmp.com/home . Over the years I have had lots of 'body work' done. That is what they call it, honest.
   Have you ever had a massage? Have you ever had your 'feet done'? Or taken a yoga class? Or discovered the soothing delights of Reiki which in my mind is laying on of hands? Fascinating stuff.
    Through the years I have learned a little about chakras and mindfulness, and crystals, and the like. If New Age-y stuff is not for you then perhaps you will never experience any of it.
   That's ok, to each his own. I certainly have my doubts about meridians and chakras etc.. On the other hand I think being mindful of your physical body and taking care of yourself is a good thing. I do believe in modern medicine, as the daughter of a nurse I would not resist making an appointment if necessary and God bless Ritalin, asthma medication, and pain pills, all of which have given those I love a chance to focus, breathe, and heal.
   But I also believe in prayer and positive thinking and I think as Beings made up not just of physical but also spiritual, intellectual, and emotional, as beings made up of many parts we should not neglect any of them in the pursuit of a meaningful life.
   Because I am not the least bit bendy I thought I should take a few yoga classes to get my body more flexible. I was also attracted to the spiritual aspects of it. Now you can attend the most physically exhausting workouts in western yoga and never once think of your soul. But it does make sense to me to include all parts of your life into your yoga practice and when I have time and concentration I have tried to do so.
   Reiki is a no brainer for me. You lie down and focus and someone or a few some ones, focus on your health and lay their hands on you. Reflexology was a bit of a stretch for me because, well because other people's feet are sort of icky. EWWWWW who would want to touch feet?
   Now the Catholic church is not big on yoga because of the tendency of fanatics to turn it into a worship of the self and body. They also have concerns about Reiki because the Reiki Master calls upon Spirit to work through their hands to help the client. But whose Spirit is called? Is it your Guardian Angel? Or the spirit of your dead mother? Is it Christ Himself or perhaps the Devil?
   I have learned all this through conversations with Deb during my body work sessions and research online afterwards. I have spoken with learned Catholics and in the end we all have a conscious and must make our own decisions. Now don't let these spiritual musings of mine dissuade you from trying Reiki or anything. I just think about spiritual stuff during those times. Plenty of people go in, get their work done, pay, and leave satisfied customers, without ever once bringing God into it.
   What I wanted to share with you is 2 incidents of note. What ever you believe or think might happen, after body work you feel relaxed and clear thinking. Maybe its because you simply laid down for an hour in mindfulness. Who knows?
    A few months ago I was having a different kind of lower back pain than is typical for me. I also began having sciatic pain shoot down my right leg. After typical methods did not relieve it I made an MRI appointment and also went to see Deb to have her 'work on me.' As usual we were chitchatting (I think typical sessions are done in soothing quiet but you know me!) At one point she said,  "It is clear something is up with your lower back, left side." Opening my eyes I assured her she was mistaken, the nerve running down my right leg was the problem. She worked a bit longer and said., "Well of course I must be wrong but I think something is off with your left side of your spine." We continued the session and I thought no more about it. Until the results of the MRI showed disc damage and bulging on the LEFT!
   I was feeling pain on the right because on the right side, my spinal column's foramina (I think?) -or openings when the nerves run out to the right side of my body- those holes are smaller than the ones running down the left. So although most of the disc debris was to the left, the little bit that went to the right caused more noticeable trouble. But the damage indeed was to the left.
    In another incident: Just before my hysterectomy I went to Deb to get work done and help calm my anxiety. As she was working on my feet she said, "Do you have trouble with your colon?" I do not. As she began digging her thumb into an area on the bottom of my left foot I pretty much elevated off the table. "Well I have bone spurs, that's just my bone spur that hurts." Patiently she dug into the right foot but I did not react. Going back to my left she said, "You have bone spurs in both feet, correct? But only the left one hurts, not the right one. Right here is where the sigmoid colon would be represented. I would be curious about what the surgeon says."
   When I came too from my surgery the first thing the doctor said was it took twice as long as expected. The second thing he said was that my uterus was attached all long my sigmoid colon and it took him forever to detach it without damaging the colon.
   Isn't that interesting? I go back to Deb tomorrow for some post surgery body work and I look forward of course to see her. I wonder though about her hands and her skill. I am not saying she is a diagnostician or that body work is magic or anything. But how amazing that someone so attuned to the human body disclosed things that then modern medicine confirmed. Are Healers through the centuries magicians or do they get their powers from Spirits? Or are they trained in the human body and able to pick up small distress signals? It just fascinates me. Thought I would share with you today about my Reiki Master.

My maybe famous robotic hysterectomy

   When I came to, after my hysterectomy, my first thought was 'God Bless anti-nausea medication'. This thought may seem flippant, but having vomited my way to consciousness in the 80s and 90s after surgical procedures, I cannot fully convey the sense of relief to become conscious to a wave of warm pain but not retching.
   My second sensation (after awareness of pain) was joy as I realized that although I hurt, I did not have a scar running the length of my abdomen. I had been spared a full abdominal surgery and instead had undergone a robotic hysterectomy.
   This meant a quicker recovery and fewer restrictions. Most importantly for me it meant I could sleep in my own bed and make the slow but doable journey up and down my stairs to the bathroom. Stairs are verboten after abdominal surgery.
      But I had already spent 7 years not sleeping in my own bed with my husband when I worked nights, and vowed not to miss another night if I could help it. My recovery during my spinal surgery was wet with tears those first few agonizing nights when the only somewhat comfortable spot was a reclining lawn chair  but I was desperate for my bed. Poor Don would push the chair as close to his side of the bed as possible and try to hold my hand in the dark but I wept in misery.
   Perhaps this is silly to you. Maybe you have an amazing leather recliner (I do not) that you love to sleep in. Or maybe you have a spacious king side bed and want the sensation of sleeping alone. But in spite of often becoming Don's body pillow, or having to wrestle covers that he steals (he claims I throw them at him?) I would prefer sleeping next to my husband thank you very much.
   So I came to full consciousness smiling away ( still medicated?) I was quite shocked to discover, first from my g.y.n. and then a short time later by the surgeon himself, that the surgery took fully twice as long as expected.
    Also due to complications it was always iffy whether or not I would end up with a full abdominal surgery anyway. It turns out that 'adhesions' or scar tissues are very common if there have been previous surgeries. Since this was my 7th abdominal surgery they expected adhesions. What they did not expect that my uterus would be adhered to both my bladder AND my colon.
    In the end, part of my uterus was left behind still attached to my poor abused bladder. The upshot of that? I am a woman with a hysterectomy who still may have monthly periods. Let that sink in a moment ladies!
   However, as my g.y.n. offered, when she and the surgeon were kibitzing mid -procedure; up until now I have never had a bladder problem, removing the uterus fully would more than likely cause one, for an uncertain length of time.
    I took this all in and tried to absorb. No mention of cancer or tumors or inoperable. No catheter or colostomy bags to come home with, I was indeed truly lucky. My surgeon was feeling pretty ebullient as well. It had proven a challenging surgery but a successful one, and he was not immodest about his skills in bringing it all about.
   It turns out Mary Richardson the news reporter from Channel 5 Boston, was shadowing him for an interview and after getting my permission he dragged her into the recovery room to talk to me. The chutzpah of that still makes me laugh! I guess it never occurred to him to ask my husband's permission, Don was patiently waiting down the hall.
   No matter, Mary Richardson was pulled over to my bedside and she had the class to be a bit embarrassed. But far be it from me to miss an opportunity to be onstage, even if I was strapped to a gurney bed. I obligingly praised the surgeon and the benefits of robotic hysterectomy, all of which I meant sincerely.
    She marveled at how great I looked just out of the operating room and I decided that she was also sincere. One must take their compliments where one can. Now she did not have a reporter's notebook in hand nor did she have a camera crew at her side. So I am not certain my uterus will achieve fame.
   But I kinda feel like it deserves it. When the surgeon marveled at how HUGE it was (almost with distaste) I took it as my due. That uterus housed 4 children to full term, one of whom was over 11 pounds! It also cradled my two children who were miscarried.
   Maybe its size has something to do with having all those foster children and needing to be in the schools today. Maybe it has something to do with small children and animals having an affinity for my company, and I for theirs. Who knows?
  Anyway its been 2 and a half weeks since my big operation. I go back to the doctors next week and then back to work the following, with a few restrictions. Mostly I find I run out of energy and I move about gingerly. But I have been very lucky all in all. I shall have to keep an eye out in case my wonderful uterus gets a shout out from Mary Richardson.

Oh those offensive words, Happy Holidays :>)

   It is not quite December and already the defensive backlash begins.  2 simple words sure stir up a lot of people. I am not talking about the N word or the F word.. I am talking about Happy Holidays. On facebook in the past week I have already had it crop up on my feed a number of times.... the Keep the CHRIST in Christmas and I wont say HAPPY HOLIDAYS. Here is a response I sent to a facebook friend.
      I like Happy Holidays....from Halloween until The Feast of the 3 Kings there is so much to celebrate! We once had a Jewish toddler, a Hispanic preschooler, and 2 black children in our foster home, plus our own children. So we just celebrated all the days, reading stories, lighting candles, making the appropriate food, discussing meaning. There was no reason for anyone to feel defensive or politically correct. It was a joyous time. When people say "Happy Holidays" to me I say "right back at you". I do not take offence or feel they are trying to take Christmas away from me. No can do that. Why not say Merry Christmas back to them with a smile instead of feeling maligned? Are there forces in this world trying to destroy religion and faith? Absolutely. But for me, being bothered by Happy Holidays gives a small victory to the forces of evil that exist against All Faiths. We still set up a menorah each year in honor of that precious foster child. We still read the Kwanzaa story book too. We put up my mother's manger scene with the 3 Kings marching across the living room towards the Christ child. Plus, Santa kneels before the crèche in a wonderful kitschy tableau. Its all good.
     But then I am happy to sing Christmas carols all year long and I find it hard to be gloomy and reflective during Lent because I already know the happy ending that awaits!

Murmurings

  This morning the chickens were milling about the yard, happy to be free from their pen. They are so adorable in the morning as they bustle about overturning leaves and pecking at the sand and pine needles, looking for a tasty morsel. They make happy little murmuring sounds in the morning too as they do this task and that is the great thing about chickens. They are definitely ‘morning people.’

   I no longer have morning people in this house. You know, a real morning person might not LIKE to get up early, but when they do they are abundantly cheerful.  I would prefer of course to sleep until ten. But when I am up, happy little thoughts zip about, snippets of songs, the to do list, the promise of the day.

  Mary, Julie, Corey, Jamie, and Joe were like this too and we would all happily engage in conversation. But now everyone except me has outgrown this endearing little quirk. Even Bambam who use to whip about in cheerful energy prefers to dash outside and do his business and then sleep until a more civilized hour, like 9 a.m.

   So I am left to be amused and engaged with the chickens. Since today is grocery shopping day, they had extra cause to bustle about in joyous energy. On this day I clean out any leftovers from the fridge, in preparation for new food. So this morning they got to have a quarter of a stale loaf of bread that migrated to the back of the cabinet. They also got a whole bag of celery which I periodically buy with the intention to use and then somehow never do. They were particularly happy with some serendipitous broccoli that I never knowingly choose to cook, but is otherwise universally loved in this household, blech!

   I did give the bit of chicken and rice to the dogs since its seems rather cannibalistic to feed chickens chicken. They are carnivorous by the way. I had to coax the dogs outside however since it was rather dreary.

   It was in convincing the dogs to go outside that I even realized it was drizzling. Me and the chickens like the warm rain and since we wake up in a cloud of rainbows and butterflies we had not noticed the gray.

  But now the teens are off to school and I sit before my computer, about to pound out a few more pages of my Thesis. In my next home I shall have my computer near a chicken facing window so I can watch my bustling friends begin their day.

I shall miss the Ode to the Morning chicken style tomorrow since I need to be at the hospital before the sun even rises. But I am thinking that I shall make it a point to sit and watch the chickens during my recovery.

   While I certainly wished that Joe or Nikki were up for a rousing conversation, I had to content myself today with the little hens and a rainy day.  Don is still asleep behind me. Tim, Corey, and Yon are still snoring away as well. Perhaps I should take a page from my chickens’ day as I peck out words on this keyboard. I shall make little happy murmurings.

A little bit of fret

   A week from now my abdominal surgery will be all over and I will, for the 8th time, be recovering from surgery. I heard I will be overnight on the 5th floor which is the maternity ward. Wish it meant I was getting a baby as a prize for my hard labours, but that is not to be.
   As always there is a lot of pre surgical prep work. I did the hospital thing already, they took a bunch of blood and went over all the dos and donts. I spoke with the anesthesiology. Thankfully new advances in their field should mean I will not come to in an agonizing way heaving and retching. (Sorry if you were eating while  reading this. I shall refrain from any more graphic depictions.)
   I joked with the nurses and got all my questions answered and yes there will be an Ativan with my name on it as soon as I walk in the door. For whatever reason this surgery has me nervous.
   Not the surgery exactly. My curious mind has me spending hours watching robotic hysterectomies and reading up on procedures. I like that stuff.
    But what if there are complications? What will the pain levels be after and for how long? Will the recovery be simple and smooth like they promise?. Past expereince does not bode well for me, nor discussions I have had with other women who underwent the procedure.
    Nikkis birthday the day of surgery, Thanksgiving 8 days later and Yons birthday 11 days after that. What will my abilities be on those days? How does this all work out?
    Then there is my college course work, classes every Tuesday night from now until our big presentation on December 11. The very same day I will be going back to kindergarten.
  See, I am not exaggerating all the possible complications complications from surgery could impact!
   I do know I will be missing a Friends Thanksgiving and another friends wedding. Although perhaps I can crash those two parties via skype. Then there is the fact that even if my surgery goes absolutely perfectly without a hitch, I still will not be able to take care of my Special Friend.
   Its funny. Although I have a great deal of anxiety I am not having a pity party. (Well not yet anyway.)
    There are many many friends and neighbors who have much deeper darker struggles than I do. Even at the very worst everyone will be able to muddle through until I am back on my feet. But I am a person who likes to plan and manage and the uncertainty is a bit disconcerting.
   Ah well.....Yon turns 40 this year and I do have his big plan all set and it can go smoothly even if I am flat on my back. I shall keep it a secret but look on the blog or FB on November 25 and you will see his smile.
  Plus I am nearly certain Mama goat successfully bred. If Matilda on the other hand is a Republican goat  then her forced breeding will not result in a kid but perhaps she is a Democrat and babies will be born;.}. They are both due April 3rd so although late Fall and early Winter might be rugged around here, for me anyway, there is always the promise of Spring.
  

Surgery Again

    DaVinci hysterectomy. Sounds much more elegant than robotic hysterectomy, doesn't it? The surgery itself is touted as the latest thing, practically a day at the  spa. A simple overnight hospital stay and back to near normal activity within 3 weeks. Sure I can go back to work, less pain too. Less scarring, they are practically doing me a favor, Think of the benefits, no more crime scene sheets every month, no more lady times that are anything BUT delicate and lady like. No more iron dropping passing out feeling. Oh the list of the wonders goes on and on.
    I am of couse a bit skeptical about the joys of it all. This shall be my 7th abdominal procedure and I have prodigious scarring to testify to the complications that sometimes arise. But after many months of trying to treat adynomysis (having first ignored the ever increasing pain and inconvenience for a couple of years!) the time has come to get this thing done.
  There is absolutely no chance of feeling sorry for myself however. I have a friend who just had the procedure done after a positive diagnosis of cancer. My biopsies have come out clean! Then this morning I had a long conversation with a friend younger than I. Both she and her sister have tested positve for the gene that causes breast cancer. Women who have this mutation have an 85% chance of developing ovarian or breast cancer.
   So both she and her sister need hysterctomies and then masectomies. This will drop their risk down to 2%. Radical though, can you even imagine? Plus she has two young children that she has to worry about since they each have a 50 50 chance of having the exact same gene mutation.
      I have a surgery at an inconvenient time that may or may not have complications. Those complications could lay me up for nearly 2 months instead of the projected few weeks. The doctors have no way of knowing until they are in the midst of the procedure.But it is not cancer. I only truly have to worry about myself, not my sibling or my children.
   So I am in a pretty realistic place right now. I have a stack of books to catch up on fun reading. I also have house plans if the surgery is the robotic one and therefore I can do stairs, drive etc, or if it ends up the full abdominal, which means no stairs and no driving.
   The biggest stress may turn out to be that 2 days after the surgery I find out whether or not I passed that damn math MTEL. I go under the knife on Nov 14th, Nikki'sbirthday. Hopefully it will all be smooth sailing. If not, well I have dealt with that before and got thru it just fine.
   As for now I am working out and eating right and trying to get ahead of my big thesis which will be due the month after my surgery. lolol Life does tend to get complicated around here, there is always some adventure or another, that's for certain!

Endings and Beginnings

   Well our 17th rabbit show season offically ended today in Storrs Connecticut.  2013 show season starts in Maine in January (or February if it is too snowy or travel funds are low.) We ended on a positive note with my little Siamese sable doe Nebraska winning a leg towards her grand championship. She is from my original Dwarf line so that is very exciting.
    Joe continues to win big with his chinchilla doe Romani and we have our fingers crossed that she is FINALLY pregnant. We will know near the end of October and he is debating whether or not to keep her out in the bunny barn or bring her inside where he can watch her more closely. Its always a tough call when an extra special bunny is trying to kindle. You want her to have a successful labor and delivery but how many indoor bunny cages do you want to have to clean? We shall see what he decides.
  Tim drove the 2 hours to the University of Conn. where the show was held. Nicknamed the ICE CREAM show because the college has their own dairy barn and ice cream store, rabbit breeders love this show! I of course loved the ice cream, but even more the fact that with Tim driving, I could doze there and back.
    Its so fun to catch up with bunny show friends and see how everyones' bunny programs are doing. I had a great talk with one judge about what I felt was missing in my herd and she had some thoughtful suggestions. One of my breeder friends overheard and offered to let me borrow one of her does to see if I could get the kind of babies I need which was fantastic.
   Of course its also fun to catch up on the good gossip. A few friends are pregnant (people not rabbits.)  In addition Convention is being held next weekend so everyone who is going was talking about it and everyone who is not listened jealously! Next year Convetion will be held in Pennsylvania so I am already day dreaming about THAT convention.
    The dreams, plans, and schemes, plus the friends and treasured memories are what makes the hobby so fulfilling.  Every show I am at reminds me of time when... meanwhile each show brings new adventures of its own.
   Then of course there are the rabbits, the whole reason we all got into the hobby to begin with. Joe's champion is so flashy. She will freeze into a show stopping pose that clearly says, LOOK AT ME.  Princess on the otherhand shyly hugs the table like her grandmother and mother always did. Unless she is in the coop or travel cage. Then she poses like a Best in Show girl! Thankfully the judge gave her a second look when she saw her waiting in the holding pen, otherwise she would have gone off the table first!
    On the way home Joe and I plot breeding pairs and debate pedigrees and plan for next years' season. I only have 3 more show seasons before the last of my children enters college. So far none of them have shown an interest in showing as an adult. I will miss their company and help, and of course their exciting show adventures.
   Then again, there are always new memories to make, and who knows, maybe in a few years a couple of grandchildren will tag along to bunny shows.
   Meanwhile I have to decide, do I set up a few winter breeding pens? Do I wait until spring? Should I see if Timberlake and Princess will make a good breeding pair? And how does Paul Newman (he of the deep blue eyes!) look? Will he be the next grand champion out of 3B's Rabbitry?

Plodding onward

   Very lax in my blogging these days. Not that I have not been writing mind you. In the last two weeks for instance I have written a five page and and eight page paper. But not the sort of riveting stuff a blog reader looks forward to.
    I am once again in prep but not panic mode to take the math MTEL or as I think of it, the money making arm of the department of ed.
   My ultimate goal is to teach an inclusion kindergarten class. My Masters is in Moderate Disabilities Prek-8th grade and for that degree one must take and pass The Communications and Literacy test (its a two parter.) This is a basic test that any sentient adult should be able to pass if they expect to interact with the public. The first time I took a practice test I got 100%. this is not to say I am brilliant, but that it is a basic test.
   Next I took the Prek-2nd grade with and without disabilities test of Early Childhood.  This test required some study for me. After taking the practice test- although I passed -it was clear there were a few new theorists in current vogue since I first went to college. I simply did some research, studied up and this test like the first, I passed easily on the first try.
   Next came the Foundations of Reading test, required of anyone teaching Prek-8. This test is all about early literacy and again very germane to anyone working with school children. This test and the one I decided to take the same day.... the Reading Specialist test, required many hours of study. The Reading Specialist test was particularly challenging to prepare for since I could not find any online samples as I did for the other tests.
   But I consulted reading specialists in school as well as collecting and reading books about teaching literacy and sure enough I passed both tests on the same day. This is not to say I did not sweat these two tests. Also I spent many hours a day to prepare for them. But it was very straight forward, study the material, ask questions, memorize, and go.
   I am now a licenced teacher of Early Childhood and I am almost done with my Initial Licence for Moderate Disabilities. But to achieve that licence and finish my Masters I have to pass the elementary math test.....a test that I have twice failed. This last time I failed by 2 points, paid 25$ for a rescore only to be told (after they cashed my check of course) that my score still stands.
  For a number of years this test had a provisional score since everyone kept failing it. The date of my test in July was the first time the provisional score no longer counted. Naturally if it was still under the provisional I would have passed easily. Such is my Irish luck!
   Meanwhile colleges all around us offer courses on how to take the test for 400 to 600 dollars. These same colleges do not allow your final student teaching until you pass the tests. The department of education and the testing company makes lots of money as well.
   Many of the tests are now completely computer based. But get this....they cost MORE money than the ones you filled out by hand locally. Instead you have to drive to far away places (in my case Waltham) only on certain dates to take a computer test that costs MORE than before.
    Resentment and dollar signs dance in my head like sugarplums. But who do you complain too? I was thinking of that lawyer line they used to have on WBZ radio but I am not even sure it exists. I suppose nothing will be done since its not like a sexy crime like Watergate.Its just poor people trying to make it in this world who are writing out checks after check for a test that does not even give a measure of what I do all day in a classroom.
   At least the Foundations of Reading was about something that effects every child in a classroom. But congruent angles and Pythagoras have little to do with number sense in kindergarten.....Well I am done venting. I think venting is just keeping me from panicking. I have studied and studied. I am no idiot.
   But just as all the hours of practicing shooting a basketball will not make me a Celtic player. All of these months and taking a test over and over, does not make me a math teacher.
  I have taken math MCAs tests up to 8th grade and passed them all. But this test for teacher competence I think would not pass any scientific study on what a good test is. It even defies what we have been learning about formative and summative assessments in college.
   But come this Thursday, I will once again be taking that gosh darn test. My hard earned money and countless hours of studying and crying and worrying and persevering. The only thing I have truly gotten out of it is a deep empathy for our children who are not test takers and who grow to hate school because of it.

  

Celtic Thunder, or when Irish eyes are smiling.

  A couple of years ago when I first got to know my special friend I was told she loved Celtic Thunder. You perhaps have heard them late nights- the Irish band on PBS. Naturally I assumed it was her mom that loved the band....what 5 year old loves Irish music?
   I would see my friend around school wearing her Celtic Thunder tshirts and it always made me smile. Then when I began to be her PCA I discovered I was dead wrong. Oh, her family loves those Irish crooners well enough. But my friend...well my friend is gaga over those guys. She knows EVERY song.
    Each time I would care for  her, we would carefully mull over the CD collection picking  CDs to watch. She favors things like Elmo's World and The Wiggles, of which I heartily approve. She adores Caillou too although Nana and mom are not as fond of THAT whiny four year old as my friend and I. So we watch Caillou when no one else is home.
   But almost every time we are together, at some point she clamours for Celtic Thunder. They always put a smile on her face. As soon as she hears them she is on her feet, laughing clapping, flapping. I do not think she is dancing however. I think she is trying with all her being to sing the songs.
   I have seen her during 'dance' time at school and in dance class. During those times she clearly tries to move her body in dance ways. Of course her little body betrays her every time. Retts is a relentless and unforgiving disability, it rarely allows its girls (Retts is a disorder on the X chromosomes) much control over their own bodies. But I have seen her attempt to dance.
   When Celtic Thunder is on, it is different however. She does not seem to be moving to the beat. Instead she seems to be straining, with her whole little being, to vocalize.
   Well Saturday night I was invited to attend a Celtic Thunder concert at the Wang center. My first time, although my girl has been I believe 4 previous times. As we stood at a street corner in Boston, waiting for the walking sign to turn on, my special friend strained forward in her wheel chair, eyes completely focused on the Marquee. she knew just what was up!
   Our seats where in the lower balcony, just behind the rows of regular floor seats. There were 4 seats at the front of the box and 2 others a few rows  behind. As her dad settled my friend and her chair in place he said to me. "Sit right behind us. Don't worry. Think of it like Fenway Park. If someone wants those seats then they will say something. Better to start in the best seats and then maybe have to move back."
   Well after the first song both Nana and I moved in the front row and no one bothered us at all. An elderly man, also in a wheel chair gave my friend 2 tiny flags an American and Irish. My girl smiled at him but most of her attention was to the stage. He then gave 2 flags to her sister who eagerly went back to thank him. She also made it a point to thank him at the end of the night and he was charmed.
  She is a great little kid and is often the voice for her younger sister. We got to sit together for a while and she had great fun hooting and hollering and singing along. We would both try to guess each song just as it started. she of course was better at it than I. But my special friend had us all beat. On the second or third note she would lean forward and clap or point or strain to get closer, huge smile spreading across her face. SHE recognized every song like a true devoted fan.
  I kept watching her joy and of it made mine complete. Her mom teased me because of course I had tears in my eyes! But that child's excitement and love was exquisite.
   The band and those Irish boys were magnificent, 2 hours of song. What a performance! My girl kept having to have her wheel chair adjusted because she would rock it right out of place.
   One small down part: my girl goes to bed early and the concert did not end until 10. At one point, during a quiet song she began to doze and did one of those head jerk, neck snapping things. (We have all done that so I am sure you can relate) Well I leaned closer to see if she bit her tongue, clearly she was hurt. But she was mad and confused and not fully awake and began to swat at me. Her Dad quickly scolded her. But she would not stop until he finally pulled her from her chair. A much louder song came on, the kind where everyone gets to their feet to sing. She perked up and gave me a big smile like she just realised I was there. As I leaned over to tell the dad what I thought happened she thought I was coming in for a kiss and happily obliged.
   They of course do not want her hitting and as a parent I can totally see it. But as her PCA I feel like I am always trying to get to the WHY. I was not offended. So, if she takes a swat at me when I am buckling her in her car seat I make the mean mommy face and scold her. But in this instance I felt like her hitting was her only way to communicate. Communicate what though is still a mystery. Did she hurt her neck? Did she bite her tongue? Imagine for a moment though the challenge to be her mom and dad. How do you teach a child to behave when they have no way yet to fully know what she understands and what she does not?
   Anyway it was a small glitch in an otherwise perfect evening. Few other highlights? At dinner, in the restaurant as I was washing off her sticky face she tried to give me a little protest kick. Since we have done this routine before I thought I was ready for it, and  I saved the IPOD and was quite proud of my quick thinking. Until I discovered her little foot had cleared a large glass of soda off the table and right into her father's lap.
   I burst out laughing which was not very good of me. But he looked so comical as the cold of the ice and soda soaked through his jeans! We worked better together during her diaper changes however.
   Think for a moment.... Where in a restaurant or concert house do you change a 7 year old's diaper? He and I would find a discrete corner, and as he held her in a standing position, shielding her with his body,  I would quickly change her lower half.
  I of course did not mind doing it. I had a few foster children who were afraid or had trouble lying down during a diaper change and I have expertise in the fine art of the upright diaper switch off. Still, I think of her dignity as she gets older. I felt the Wang could could have shown us to a quiet office, or cloak room. But nope.
    At one point her mom, whom I adore, said, "Hey you're not on duty tonight. This is suppose to be a gift for you." But looking down at my precious friend, how else could I respond but to say, "Anytime I spend with her IS my gift." It's true though. She is a gift, and last Saturday night I got to share Celtic Thunder with her. Those Emerlad Isle lads never sounded so good. Just ask my friend.

Mysteries

  How would you explain the Catholic Mass to someone who did not speak English? Or to someone who could hear but not understand? Or  to someone who could not hear or perhaps could not read? How would you know if they got IT or not? How would you know if they felt the presence of God or comprehended any of the "Catholic story"? How would you teach them all of the Mass and enough of the Sacred Mystery of The Eucharist, so that they could receive Holy Communion?
    My friends are facing these sorts of questions with their youngest daughter. Their first daughter, a sweet, dramatic, loud, and lively little girl is now in 5th grade. She likes church well enough, recites her prayers, is kind and caring. She has received Communion and certainly lives her young life like any good girl.
   She recently became an alter server and I got to watch as this child who never sits still, loves a good joke, and is quite possibly as chatty as I am, quietly and reverently went about her altar server duties. She kept an eye out on the other 2 servers making sure everyone was doing what they were suppose to, and she carefully tried to anticipate the fill-in priest who did things not quite the same way as her pastor. She was diligent and well mannered and someone any parent would be proud of.
   Meanwhile I got to sit next to her younger sister, my special friend, during Mass. I offered to hold her or help but her mother shook her head no and whispered, "Just watch, we have a whole routine down."
   I thought that was wise since everyone knows how important routines are, especially for people with certain special needs. I laughed to myself before Mass started, thinking how the rituals of the Catholic Mass would be very comforting for someone who needs repetition,-all that up, down, sit stand, kneel stuff,  an OCD dream come true, its the same every week!
   Well we sat in the pew, and my special friend climbed on her mother's lap. She held in her hand a picture of the altar, one of the cross, and one of her parish priest. She stared at the pictures for a moment, shuffling them, as is her habit. Then she dropped them, leaned forward, and while gripping the pew back in front of her, she intently stared at the altar.
   I watched her facial expression, one of deep concentration. Glancing down I noticed her knuckles were white. Because of her constant spastic movements, she was gripping the pew in order to keep her body movements still. This requires enormous energy on her part, her body is in constant spastic motion and its flailing and shuddering and jerking often throw her attention off what she is trying to do. But she clung on to the pew for dear life and I could not help but wonder what she had on her mind.
   As the organ began her attention shifted to the  side door entrance where the celebrant's process in. With great little kid excitement she watched them march by, her graze lingering on the priest who was a stranger to her. As he went past she caught my eye and encouraged me in her silent but commanding way to look. I grinned back at her and nodded, and, satisfied that we were  both seeing the same thing she turned her attention to the altar. For the next hour her focus almost never wavered. She watched every part of the Mass, occasionally glancing down at the little misselette in front of her.
Its a simple book with two pictures on each page and one or two words that follow along with the Mass. For instance, one picture might be of the offertory basket, and the next of a person standing.
   She followed the Mass closely. From time to time, of course, she would try to rush the pictures forward (haven't we all wanted to rush the priest at one time or another?) But for the most part her attention was quietly and avidly following the prayers, hymns, and rituals.
   I have been with my special friend, on the play ground, at school, at the doctors, at a concert, at home, and all around. This child who sat next to me at Mass showed me a side I had never seen however. She was so filled with focus and concentration...
   Every once in a while she would feel my gaze upon her and flash me one of her mischievous smiles. But mostly she was...well, she was, what? In prayer? In communion with her Heavenly Father? I do not know.
   Always when I am with her it is like a prayer for me certainly. Feeding her, changing her, trying to fill her with communication, simply being in her presence, rubbing her feet, scratching her back, catching her when her legs refuse to hold her up. I gently pull her hands down to her lap when she bangs her head, I sooth her tears of pain and frustration. Believe me you have no idea what suffering is compared to her. Can you imagine reaching for your spoon because you are hungry when all of a sudden your hand has a spasm and the whole bowl of food goes flying. Or to have your toes pinched in your shoes but because you are mute you can not tell someone? To want to tell someone to go "F" themselves but no words come out?
   My every moment with her is a prayer, every thing I do for her is reverent. She is of course nothing but Love and a God Mystery. Why does one little child have to suffer so much? Why must her parents and sister have to work so hard and struggle with worry and fear? Why? I have no idea.
    But the child sitting next to me at Mass had focus and sincerity that few people I know ever bring to church. She absolutely knew or was trying to figure out what was going on. It was amazing and humbling to be in her presence.
   Of course a lot of the credit has to go to her parents and grandmother who spend every day working tirelessly on her behalf. They have to be the voice of one who so far cannot speak up for herself. They would be the first to say they are no saints. As a matter of fact anyone who knows my friends mom knows where my friend gets both her mischief AND her temper.
   Her parents wanted her to make First Communion. Her mom once said to me "You always dream of your little girl walking down the aisle in her bridal gown. Well we wont have that for K*. But maybe we can prepare her for First Communion and we all can have that memory."
   Who wouldn't want that for their child? The challenge of course with a child who is mute is figureing out of course what she understands. She is VERY articulate about what she WANTS if given the chance.
   She constantly amazes me with her abilities. She is a gift...wait til I tell you about the concert I got to go to with her!!!! She definitely knows how to rock out!
   Sitting next to her at Mass, with her family, however was truly one of the most holy places I have ever been.
 

Simple pleasures

  Last night was the perfect night for a canoe ride around Maquan pond. The air was still summer warm, but the breeze had that Fall bite to it. We paddled as the sun set and just enjoyed the beauty and stillness. We were the only ones on the pond, although a wedding or some other gathering was going on up at the Kiwanee main lodge.
     After we paddled in  the pond neither one of us was ready to go home. So we headed over to Duxbury to walk Powder Point bridge and then explore Duxbury beach.
    We parked in the small public parking lot at the start of the bridge and as we walked we marveled at the traffic heading out to Saquish.  The beach to had a small group of teens horsing around in the dark.   We walked for a while in the dark heading towards Saquish. Ahead of us it looked like bonfires although we never made it quite that far.
    As we headed back the harbormaster drove passed us, in his 4wheel drive SUV. He looped around us and then stopped to ask if we had parked our Lexus up at the crossover. Apparently those get locked at night and if you are in the wrong spot you could find yourself on the beach until morning.
   I got a kick out of the fact that anyone even thought we could afford a Lexus! He was amused that we would park way over on the other side of the bridge instead of closer to the ocean. "Its only permit parking until Labor Day, park closer next time."
    He evidently never walked the bridge at night. The ocean is under and on either side of you as you walk the wooden bridge. The views during the day are lovely. But at night the stars stretch out above you in glorious splendor and the sensation of walking just above the ocean is very neat..
  It was an inexpensive and wonderful date night. Today too we got ot spend a lot of time together. I was watching my special friend so we sort of hung around the house, playing cards and watching little kid shows. Don played his ukulele along to the music on the TV, much to my friend's amusement. He tries to get her to like The Beatles, she insists in her demanding way that he play The Wiggles.
    After, I got to help her at her first dance class which was QUITE a workout for me. She totally enjoyed herself and the teachers at the Carver Dance Studio were patient and enthusiastic and delightful. My young friend was thrilled when she recognized the dance song or understood their instructions. Hopefully I will be allowed to bring her again.
    Always when I am with her, it is like a prayer. Does that make sense? She is mute although she certainly communicates and interacts with the world. But I love spending time with her and trying to figure out what she wants or how to help her express it. Plus I get to do things like go to dance class and watch Elmo!
     After my girl went home it was time to exercise the goats in their portable pen. I want them to eat all the poison ivy which Donnie is terribly allergic too. You would think they would enjoy the freedom the long dog lead provides the,, or all the delectables they can reach from their portable pen. But those 3 goats are like toddlers who, given the chance to scramble around the playground, prefer instead to climb on and off moms lap. Galaxy goat now ways around 150 pounds. Believe me when I say he CANNOT fit into my lap, although that does not stop him from trying.
   After grazing with the goats, I went to the garden to pick veggies for dinner and soon we will be eating out in the garden. Simple things these past few days but I am wildly happy. I could spend every day here with the animals and the garden and Don.
   Taking care of my special friend sometimes makes me long for another little kid. But Don reminds me of things like the canoe ride or late night walk, or the freedom to work with my animals and so maybe he is right. We can borrow other peoples little kids and then still have our little slice of heaven.
    Tomorrow the plan is to work with the rabbits and church too of course. I feel like I am getting away with something, all this simple pleasures fill me up!

Peppermint, potatoes, and a sly bunny

   I went outside after dinner to feed and water the goats. As I was doing so I could hear little boys arguing, across the street, as they played ball. I miss that sound of little kids in the yard. Galaxy the goat is a different kind of kid, definitely much quieter!
    I rushed about to the garden to pick the cucumbers which are starting to take on zucchini proportions and then I remembered the potato patch.... those poor neglected potatoes.
    When you plant tiny seed potatoes with their  eyes poking out like stubby fingers, you are suppose to first dig a furrow. You place the potato bit at the bottom of the furrow and heap dirt over it. As soon as the leaves are about 6 inches long you begin to cover them over, from the sides of the furrow. You do this 3 or 4 times. Potatoes grow from roots that grow from these buried leaves. Above the ground is a lovely bushy green plant with wavy delicate white flowers. Underneath meanwhile a little hillock of potatoes grow.
    But I never had a chance to heap up the dirt more than once. I also planted only one row and it the the driest garden bed we have as the giant nearby pine tree  has its roots beneath it, and the roots suck away all the water.
    I don't think I watered the garden once this year what with this and that, all the rushing around and important stuff that HAS to get done. I am sure Don and Tim did at least a few times and we have had an abundance of warm juicy cucumbers and heavy tomatoes, so some things found their needs met.
    Anyway, I searched for the pitchfork which has never once, not even one time, ever ever been where I last put it. Then I set to work on the potato patch. I carefully slid the pitchfork in the loose soil and lifted and turned. Immediately the sweet sugary smell of peppermint filled the air. 2 little peppermint plants that I once impulsively bought at Shaws 15 years ago have been fruitful and multiplied everywhere in my garden. In certain places the warmed soil releases a peppermint scent as soon as it is turned.  (Near the apple trees the soil takes on an apply scent, and just near the grape arbour you can smell grape in the dirt year round.)
    From the first potato plant a lovely perfect palm size potato lay nestled in the warm dirt. One, one lovely potato, not a hillock, not a mound, one. So it went down the row. Every once in a while a a few baby potatoes would be grouped together as if they thought of becoming a potato mound. But they did not.
   All in all I have enough for one delicious meal! Ah well. Thankfully we are not a subsistence people or we would all have cucumber breath and be desperate for carbs.
   I did have to pause in my harvesting when I realised a bunny was hopping companionably down the row with me as I worked. He kept just out of arms reach but was quite content to be near me. His cage sits under the apple tree, and its front door hung open. Donnie had to be called for bunny wrangling as my back does not always allow me to bend with the swift agility bunny herding requires. He was caught after a few feints and dodges and i was able to finish working in the garden.
    I sat for a moment to tie my shoe, with my head spinning with the to do list. Then I just shook my head to stop and simply be. To look at the newly caught bunny, who was absolutely smirking at me. To glance up at the tall pine that always steal the water from the furthest garden row. Sitting on the lower branch was Stumpy, the tailless squirrel, who has lived and robbed from the edge of my garden for more than 6 years now. He was happily nibbling  a small bunch of grapes that he had stolen while I was bunny catching.
   I have decided that from now until New Years I am not going to once say out loud, how busy I am or how much I have to do or how quickly time is flying. Instead I am going to write and think and talk about those moments when I catch myself being still. Still to watch a chubby squirrel enjoy my harvest, still to be able to smell the warm soil and its pepperminty spices. Still to be able to record and reflect and enjoy my life that is of course too busy with too much to do and too much time going by too quickly. It is all these things but I am going to make my central focus be the lovely small things. Wish me luck! Or maybe take on my Until New Years Resolution.

24th First Day of School

   This morning, as I stood sipping my tea, while watching the kids out at the bus stop (discretely of course since they are in 10th and 11th grade!) it occured to me that I have been doing this since 1988. Doing what? Why celebrating the first day of school as a parent.
    Mary and Tim went off to preschool in 1988. We drove Mary to her little school, trekking from East Bridgewater to Hanson 3 days a week. Tim on the otherhand took a taxi to school down in Bridgewater, where they had a language based preschool.
    Every year since 1988 I have calmed nervous jitters, and joked, and coaxed, and prepared school children for their first day. I only have 2 more first days after this one, when the last of my children finish school.
    Of course college prep is a whole other ordeal. I have been doing that only since 2002. Sometimes one kid, sometimes 3 of us. That is much more challenging ,as all that packing and moving in frays nerves and wallets!
    Here in Carver we used to have 5 schools and at one point I had 7 children in the 5 schools. Do you comprehend how many first day of school forms  was required to be fille out? The form filling out and most first days of school come to think of it, always fell to me although in recent years I have cajoled (ok demanded!) Donnie do his fair share.
   Once we started having middleschoolers Don began a tradition of making them a big breakfast. This year of course fashion dictated that Nikki do hair and make up, not eat, so only Joe parttook of the pancakes.
    Naturally as a mom it was much more fun when they were little and let me pick out clothes and wait out at the stop with them. The 7 years I worked the night shift I always raced to get home, and with bleary eyes from lack of sleep, I would hover to make sure they got on the bus before staggering off to bed.
   When Julie and Corey started school, Julie once asked what moms did all day without their kids? I responded, that on the first day, all the moms rented a bouncyhosue and went out for Chinese food. She believed that until well into highschool.
    Come to think of it, perhaps on my last first day of school I will do just that!

Air matresses and tires

Apparently during the night a porcupine showed up and punctured both the air mattress and the right front tire. Perhaps it was something more mundane but a porcupine makes a better story. As Don stared morosely at the flat tire, I muttered about my bad luck following us……

Still it was a bright clear morning, the cooking bacon filled the surroundings with a wonderful aroma and we had prepaid for a double kayak rental. How sad could we really be? We sure as heck spend a lot of time saying ISO…..ISO stands for In Spite Of. For instance, in spite of the flooding rain, the camping trip was fun. In spite of the baby crying all thru dinner, the food was delicious, in spite of follows us everywhere and we even laugh to be the first one to say it on a trip.

Perhaps that is why that first Sandals trip to St Lucia was so amazing. It was the first and only week of our life we had no ISO.

So ISO an uncomfortable ever deflating mattress and a totally flat front tire, we had a lovely day. Don put the spare on and we are heading out shortly to spend our anniversary dinner money on a mattress!

The kayak trip took 4 hours as we pulled off a few times at scenic sandbars to snack or swim. Don even managed to jump off the rope swing a few times and give the young boys a few tips.

That river is amazing. Very little is built up along the banks, a few campsites perhaps, the occasional hunting cabin. But mostly it is white birch trees and wonderful curves of sand and stone.

We bottomed out a couple of times and shot a few rapids awkwardly as it takes some coordination to 2 man kayak. In many ways it is much easier to simply trust yourself and your own judgment in handling the boulders and branches and gigantic tree routes that are scattered through out the river. Don and I have a slightly different style to paddling and judging where and when to maneuver around the obstacles that are abundant in the waterways.

I am sure there are plenty to comparisons to be made between a long marriage and 2 person kayaks. The important thing to note is that we did not capsize, nor did I hit him upside the head at any point with the paddle (imagine the temptation!)

Now he is happily dozing in the chair while I let my bunnies get some exercise out of their traveling cages. The next adventure awaits and hopefully there will be no more air leaks of any kind.

In the moment of wondering

     After dark, last evening, Donnie and I took our traditional walk around the campground. My parents always did. I can remember them wandering off holding hands, dad with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, mom holding a cup of ice with ‘something icky’ in it…..

When our own kids were very small I was too nervous to walk beyond the2 camp roads on either side of our site. As they got older the late night walk was often the only time we had any privacy at all to go over plans or just have adult conversation.

Last night as we wandered we ended up at Beach 1. The stars above were magnificent and without the every present light pollution we were able to see and see and see the vastness of space. Donnie lay flat on his back on the banks of the river and tried to capture a photograph of the stars. He then invitingly patted the sand next to him for me to join him. I hesitated as my back is still not fully cooperating with me these days.

After a little coaxing however, I relented and we lay there for a very long time, on still warm sand, simply being. There were no bugs and no particular sounds beyond the simple night sounds of peepers and the whisper movement of the river rushing past.

You know how you stare and stare at a black space between stars and all of a sudden you can see further stars? Or how the wind slowly pushes clouds across your field of vision and then just as quickly move them passed. …. I asked out loud if he thought there were other planets around all those stars, like planets around our sun. He thought its was too egotistical to think that we are the only beings, and as I looked at the infinite night sky I wondered what those beings were like. Do they have gods I wondered? Do you really believe there is just one God?

In my every day life the God question seems so obvious. Not only is there a God but he is a very personal one, a sort of Santa type God who grants wishes. We go to Mass and pray with our children. I pray daily, read the bible, have room in my mind that there are many paths to the one God….

But laying there, 2 tiny insignificant specks on a speck of sand next to a speck of a river, the vastness of the universe seemed too large to contain a single deity. Maybe that is why , if our Christian forefathers did not make it up, there is only one God and he sent his Son to walk among us so we could imagine in this vast universe a god our minds could encompass….Or maybe creation was so vast that the One God was lonely and so he sent his Son so he could relate to his creation….

Then I thought about how as large as space is, how vast, and ever expanding, there is it would seem inside us a miniature of spinning planets and stars. All those molecules and atoms and particles and charges. Universes to infinity within us matching the universes to infinity outside of us.

The ground was warm and comforting and then I contemplated, maybe we are a universe inside a gigantic god….a Horton here’s a who sort of idea…..

Eventually the mundane of an aching back brought me out of musings and into practical reality. But it was wondrous and awesome in the fullest sense of the word AWEsome, to lay there next to the Saco and feel the grandeur and sacred mystery of creation..

Ode to the weekend.

   I am sitting next to the fireplace,  which while not yet lit, is all ready for the evening fire to come. Just in front of me but not quite in eye sight, the Saco river flows silently, swiftly past, on this late afternoon (Off in the distance the train horn sounds at the crossing and little kids shout in excitement at the playground closer at hand.). The tent is up and the campsite is set. Don expertly winds the extension cord around nails along the wood canopy, trying to best gage where things might need to be plugged in. He has the small college size fridge set up near the bunny carry cages, which sit at one end of the picnic table. I have already spread the festive red table cloth on the end we will use.
     As I set up the two cages, with an exercise space between them, I wonder if I should have brought a portable table for the rabbits to be on. I imagine it would be more sanitary. But The Employer, my chocolate netherland buck, and show veteran, enjoys watching our goings on. Besides, my bunnies are cleaner than the birds and wild critters that have scrambled across this picnic table; perhaps, even cleaner than the people who camped before us.
    I am thinking about Caveman, my little herd buck, who passed away this week- and how he always seemed to enjoy camping when we went to far away shows. I know I have a picture of him sunning himself on the grooming table, when we were up here a few years ago, preparing for the Fryeburg fair. When I get home I will have to search for that adorable picture and post it.
    The campground and its sights, smells, and sounds, has changed little in the 40 years I have camped here. Every road bike path,, every curve of the river, holds a little memory of my childhood or my kids.
   The 2 years it flooded out, once when I was a kid, and a few years ago making my own kids giddy. The year we camped and a murder happened across the road and Corey and I gave witness statements to the cops about some suspicious activity. (The murderer's relatives were camping here.) The first summer camping when my parents adopted Yon. The year Mary and I came alone to show bunnies. Memories of bear sightings and skunks adventures. Or, oh remember when Corey was 8 at six gun city and the bad guy was gunned down and collapsed at Corey's feet, only to have the bad guy wink up at Corey begging him to keep his secret and help him escape. Oh how he laughed and laughed!
  Pregnant with Julie while camping here with my own kids and fosters. The years of putting a child play pen fence around the campfire to keep IT safe from little toddlers. The year I made Donnie help pack and he forgot all the pots and pans! I got new kitchenware that year!!!!!! The little kids who got up early and snuck off with Dad to Banners restaurant for breakfast......it goes on and on.
    I sit here under the trees in the dappled sunshine and just savor memories and wonder what new ones will be created. One of my Master's program classmates is up in the area with her family. Perhaps we will meet up. Or perhaps I will finally meet in person my FB friend Karen. We share a love of Bearded collies and every year we just miss each other at the Acton Fair. Maybe this year the stars will align and we will share beardie stories in person. You never know. Once I saw Stephen King although I did not really think it was him in SHAWS shopping or I would have got his autograph for Mary. Turns out he lives up the road!
    We may kayak the Saco tomorrow, or do a big hike. Saturday will be the fair show and catching up with bunny friends. I do not have anyone really competitive. My best buns are home in the middle of molts so bad, the little REW buck looks like a snow storm! But I have a couple of promising young bunnies, and the adventures are what I always remember any way, not the wins. The adventures and the people.
   Monday Don and I celebrate 29 years of marriage. So this weekend we will relax and chat and laugh and play. He will work on some music and I will work on some bunnies. Those are our separate hobbies but we completely enjoy the enjoyment of the other in engaging in those hobbies. Do you know what I mean?
    But the camping, the fire, the cooking outdoors, the river, and the hike, the memories, and adventures, those things my friends we do as one.
   

Randy's Wedding

My bunny friend Randy got married in May, and he keeps checking to see if I will blog about it. I think I have lived 7 lifetimes and written 12 bazillion college papers between May and now, but I need to stop before all memory is gone and write about that darn wedding.
   Before I go further perhaps I should mention that Randy is a guy not a rabbit...that first sentence might not make it clear. Randy and I have been friends for more than a decade and we met showing our rabbits. For the most part we only see each other at bunny shows or rabbit meetings. (rabbit meetings for adults. Stop laughing there is too such a thing, and they are a lot more fun than most meetings you have ever been too!)
   When Randy began to instant message and later entered the world of Facebook we were able to deepen our relationship. The internet is a great way to keep in touch between bunny shows. Of course like all real relationships we didn't just talk about our hobbies, Randy was in a hard marriage and we often spoke about marriage and child rearing and all those other things friends talk about. I especially treasured our friendship. Being married to a Quiet man, it is nice to have a friendship with a chatty one!
   Anyway a few years ago as winter was settling in Randy called devastated. His wife was determined to end their marriage and after doing everything he could to salvage their relationship he finally agreed with her. All that winter he came home to a lonely house, cooked his own meal, and sat to eat it in front of the computer. We spoke often. Usually I just listened. I mean what can you say when someone is in so much despair? You listen and try to just be there so the person does not feel totally alone.
   Certainly he had a supportive family and plenty of guy friends urging him to get out and move on. But the death of a marriage is a real death and he mourned and grieved and struggled to come up for air. Anyway as time went on he slowly re-entered the world. Things were very different for him, but not necessarily bad.....
   Skip ahead a number of months and the 2 of us were sitting together at the Midnight Madness bunny show. I was recovering from my neck surgery and he from his broken marriage, 'the walking wounded' he jokingly called us. A number of our friends wandered over, some just to talk but others pulled chairs up along side us.Donnie was kept busy moving bunny cages for me and he even pulled out a mattress in case I needed to lie down. (One of the judges ended up falling asleep on it!) One of our bunny friends Sharon came over to chat. AS we were all chit chatting I noticed a change in the air a sort of vibrational charge between Randy and Sharon.Now they have known each other, of forever, both showed bunnies as youth. But there was never anything between them.
   At one point I called Donnie over and whispered to him about it. "What are you talking about Sue. You flirt with Randy more than anyone?" Which of course was totally true. But my flirting with Randy was not the same thing as the electrical connection between those two....
   Anyway a few days later Randy confided in me that he had asked Sharon out on a date. As I laughed and told him about what I felt that night at the show and Donnie's  and my conversation Randy could not believe it and then he too started laughing.
    Skip on ahead a bit. Their engagement was met with great excitement and joy in the bunny world and thankfully Sharon could not care less if I flirted still with Randy....Quite frankly she became more fun to flirt with. Then came the phone call when Randy asked me to do a reading at his wedding! I was so happy I cried. (Hey Randy did you think this blog would be about you? Its all about me lolol even at your wedding I am the star in my own mind.)
    During the wedding rehearsal the deacon asked if I knew what to do. I jokingly responded, "Its not my first time!" It is entirely possible I was one of the few practicing Catholics among their friends. But I prefer to think Randy asked me because I was of some small service to him when he was so sad.
   Randy, although not Catholic himself took  the Pre Cana classes and met with the priest and did everything else Sharon asked of him. How great is it that two people could find love after so many years of friendship?
    Their wedding ceremony was sacred and holy and oh so wonderful. He cried, the father of the bride cried...everyone but the bride cried come to think of it. She was radiant and joyful.
    At the reception their parents surprised them with an ice sculpture of two bunnies kissing.  We ate and danced......One of the rabbit friend couples, a husband and wife who had been  together 40 years were particularly poignant. They both loved to dance but a stroke left her unable to move with freedom. He carefully wheeled her to the dance floor and helped her rise. He handed her her cane then moved the wheelchair and  danced joyfully while she swayed. How is that for love.
  As the wedding was ending I tapped the groom on the shoulder just as he was about to dance with his bride. Looking at Sharon I said, "He is yours forever but right now he owes me." Laughing she waved us on to the dance floor.
    We danced in happy silence for a bit. Then when I looked up I saw he was staring with love over at his bride. "Hey" I said lightly stomping on his feet. Turning his face to  me I did the hand gesture- his eyes to my eyes,my eyes to his eyes. He gave the biggest happiest grin. It was not really for me of course. His deep happiness was because he found his love. But what the heck. I got to dance with a cute guy in a tuxedo!
   So there you go Randy. The story of your wedding. Perhaps others played a larger role. But it is exactly how I remember it.

Staying positive

Last night Don and I treated ourselves to a night of positive thinking. We went to a fund raiser for the Kingston Library. At five dollars a person and free hors d'vores you could not go wrong. (Since I had weigh- in the next morning I avoided the snacks, but let me tell you those cupcakes looked devine and I possibly gained a pound just by being in their presence!)
   The speakers were Loretta Laroche and Maryanne Leone Cooper. 2 more different people you could not possibly put together. Both come from Italian families and both are writers from the area, but in no other way are they alike.
   Yet, it worked, the magic of who they are mixed and blended and created a wonderful moment.
     I have been a fan of Loretta's for years. Way back when, I went to a talk she gave at the Brockton Hospital on stress reduction for caregivers. The room was full of nurses and I sat next to my mom. We both howled with laughter at the dead on descriptions of our jobs (she as a nurse, me as a foster mom to special needs kids) and we nodded at the wisdom imparted.
Through the years any time Loretta was on PBS, or a new book or article came out we shared with each other and Loretta and her humor were a special bond mom and I had. Then shortly after my dad died my mom called. She had expensive tickets  for a dinner, I believe for the Plymouth library.
  My dad got the tickets so he and mom could share a Loretta night but with his passing mom was not even certain she wanted to go. " Sue, I feel like I can never laugh. I smile at things, I try to enjoy things. But if I don't have your father to tell it to later, its never really funny."
   We spoke for a while and I finally convinced her to meet me there. "Look", I said, "its already paid for you might at least go and enjoy a meal you do not have to cook or clean up after. We can always leave before Loretta comes out if you want."
   So we met there one night after work and oh my, Loretta was really on. We both laughed so hard our sides hurt.  My mother cried a few times, but mostly they were tears of laughter. Afterwards in the parking lot she thanked ME for the wonderful evening and I loved Loretta even more for giving joy back to my mom for one night.
     My affection for Marianne Leone Cooper was a little more remote. She wrote a heartbreaking account of the life of her very special needs son who died far too young. When the book came out a couple of years ago money was quite tight so I would read it in the bookstore anytime we went to the mall. Marianne is an actress and has been in this and that over the years, like some of my community theater friends who play a zombie or 3rd guard from the right, that sort of thing. Her husband, the actor Chris Cooper has had more notoriety. I eagerly pointed him out to Don when Chris slid into his chair in front of us, right before his wife began to speak.  With his jeans and scruffy beard he looked more like a family member to Don than a movie star, but there you go.
   Chris was clearly uncomfortable when his wife spoke of some deeply personal times. No actor wants to be exposed as himself,  they are far more comfortable playing a character. But he roared along with everyone else when Loretta got really revved up.
    The respect the writers showed towards each other and their very different life experiences was particularly moving. Afterwards I wanted to go up to them but did not dare.
    First I wanted to thank Loretta for giving my mother and I a shared experience of giddy pleasure. But how do you say "Well my mom is dead now but boy you sure made her laugh." how do you thank someone for giving the gift Loretta unknowingly bestowed that night when my mom thought she could never feel happiness again?
   The conversation with Marianne would have been even more awkward. The reason I have been so interested in her story, was because of the little child that I care for who can only communicate with her eyes. My special friend, like her son, cannot use her hands to sign much beyond an "I am all done" hand clap. Sometimes however, she even  misses her own hands.
   Marianne knew her son could read but it took a while to convince whoever needed convincing. Eventually there was a computer that could track his eye movement and see that he sure enough was tracking print across the page like any other person. Not only could he read but he was desperate to communicate. As a mom she could see it in his eyes. She had to be his voice until computers could catch up with his type of disability Later he went on to be able to write his own poetry and create essays needed for school.
    My special friend has whole essays in her eyes too and sometimes I can clearly see them. But so far no one can say what she knows or what level she is at. Is she 2 developmentally? Is she 7 like her little body? Her parents are her advocates like young Jesse had Marianne and his father Chris.
    But it is hard to fight battles everywhere when feeding and clothing and bathing and changing a special  special special child takes physical strength, time, money, and endless patience. Its becomes exhausting, to always do battle with the world.
   I of course get the fun part. I swoop in and steal my special friend away for a few hours. We go for walks and try to find dogs and frogs along the way. We go to Fridays 'our' restaurant and the waitresses fight to be our server.
    I talk to her nonstop. Perhaps if she could ever learn to speak her first words will be 'oh shut up for a minute Sue, please'. I  read to her and pour language into her because I do not know what she might or might not understand.
    'Yes and no' and 'I want' and 'first this and then that' are all directions she can understand and communicate. But a 7 year old has language far richer than that. Will her mind one day become unlocked like Jesses? I want to ask that of Marianne. I want to say how the story of her son touches me so deeply.
   Neither Jesse nor my special little friend are my children but in their presence it does not feel like that. Will I have children in my classroom like these children? Will I be able to reach them? Will someone set their minds free even as their bodies are trapped in never ending twitches and spasms?
   How do you say to another person all of that and not sound a little deranged? So last night I took from these two women and their stories of triumph and despair, of hope and love, and loss and life. I took but did not give. Still did not have enough money to buy their books. But I think my first paycheck this fall I will. I have read bits and pieces of Jesse's story, the least I can do is buy the damn book.

Thinking of getting a rabbit? a few tips from yours truly

Why does my bunny do that?

Have you ever wondered why your bunny thumps his back feet when you walk into the bunny barn? Or why is your little doe furiously scratching the wire on her cage floor just as you are trying to drift off to sleep?
It might help you to know a little bit about why wild bunnies do what they do and see how it relates to your domestic friend. Just a note however, serious inquiry into the every day lives of rabbits has not been extensively studied since the late 1960s.
Those studies and others can be accessed on line but it is tough finding any current information.
The European rabbit lives from woodland to grassland to desert. All domestic rabbits descend for the European rabbit. In the wild these animals often live in colonies, burrowing underground in a series of tunnels called warrens. Normally the warren is made up of a buck, his main wife, (they often share the same little nest even with her young in it) and his other wives.
Because rabbits are the primary food source for many many carnivoures (and it is true, rabbit meat does taste like chicken!) rabbits are very wary. They have developed excellent wide vision and they constantly scan their surroundings especially up! Even domestic rabbits who have no reason to fear owls and hawks keep a sharp eye upward.This is why many people swear their house rabbit is watching TV or listening to the radio!
Rabbits have very strong hind legs and thump the ground to assert dominance over other rabbits or call the attention of other rabbits in the colony. When your rabbit thumps when you come in the barn he may be warning the other rabbits, announcing your presence, or trying to let you know he is in charge.
Rabbits also sit up on their hind legs and stretch up to get a better view of possible danger. This natural abilty can be encouraged if you wish to teach your bunny tricks.
In the wild the rabbits nails are naturally kept short because of all their digging, especially does who dig out their nesting places. If you have a rabbit that digs and digs in her wire cage, do her a kindness and get her something to dig, even if it is a box of shavings, torn newspaper, etc.
Wild mother bunnies cannot protect their young and are careful not go near their nesting places except for once or twice a day to nurse.Their milk then is one of the richest in the animal kingdom. The milk needs to hold the babies from 12-24 hours at a time. This is one of the biggest reasons it is so difficult to keep wild baby kits alive if they are found. Neither infant formula nor calf replacer milk is rich enough for the needs of rabbits.
Rabbits can be seen in early morning and early evening. This is because they are crepuscular. However if there is a bright moonlit night they also hop about. This last sentence is perfectly clear to anyone who shares a bedroom with a bunny. If light is available they hop around, rattle their feed crocks, and entertain themselves all while you try to slumber.
They also use moonlit nights to help them locate possible mates and many show breeders use this time of the month to breed their own animals with documented increased fertility rates.
In the wild although bunnies live in proximity to each other in warrens they are really rather solitary creatures and prefer to sleep alone. (the exception being the herd buck and doe.) Many people often buy 2 bunnies at once, for example a sister pair, so their rabbit will not be lonely. Certainly this can work out. But more often than not once the rabbits reach sexual maturity (at around 6 months for Netherlands) the ladies begin to squabble like true sisters, pulling hair, and preventing one from eating.
It is best to house your bunny in its own place. This is not to say they are not social, rabbits in the wild certainly share their lives with other creatures of the meadow. Your rabbit might love to clean your cats ears, or snuggle up to your four year old or your dog. (We had a beagle who loved to nap with our house bunny!)
But they prefer their own space and this should be respected. Just as a note, no rabbit should ever be left outside its safe cage unattended. The best dog or cat can have instinct take over should your bunny begin to hop, with disasterous results.
One other tip that might help you understand your bunny's psychology. In the wild no creature ever picks up a rabbit for a good reason. A bunny who allows himself to be picked up is a dead bunny, someones' take out meal.
Therefore no matter how tame and lovable your rabbit is, no matter how much he loves to be with you- Removing your bunny or returning your bunny to his cage is frought with peril for him.
Do not be angry or feel rejected if his instinct is to hide at the back of the cage or kick out his legs in effort to get away. Reach in with confidence and pull/scoop him if possible using 2 hands, one for his bottom, and one near his head/shoulder area and snuggle him close to your body. Many breeders carry their animal in the football hold so that he does not have to even see that he is 4 feet off the ground. When returning your bunny put him hindquarters first into the cage. He will grow to recognize his house and if you put him in head first he may shove with his back legs and begin to struggle in an effort to get to safety and you or he can be hurt. Always teach your child to put away his rabbit bottom first.
Hope this insight into the lives of rabbits helps you to undertand yours a little better.

Innocents and Batman

   The other day Joe came up with a great idea. If I was willing to drop he and his buddies off at the movie theater, the boys could watch, from 6-12 a bunch of previous Batman stuff,and then the latest movie would start at midnight! Don started to shake his head no. After all Joe is an early to bed, early to ride kin of guy. He figured Joe would be snoring long before the Dark Knight made his appearance.
    But I readily agreed to let them go and to provide transportation. Turning to Donnie I said with a grin, "what could be safer than a movie theater full of geeks?"
   15 however is that funny age when your body may have manly proportions(not Joe but his 2 buddies are 6 feet with deep rumbly voices)but you still think like a little kid. In spite of my repeated reminders to get tickets ahead of time they dilly dallied too long and sure enough the midnight showing was sold out.
  In the end they slept over our house, insisting we pay for OnDemand os they could watch the Batman movies leading up to this new one. They were up al hours, chatting with the big kids, playing video games, and watching Batman. Corey even made them an after midnight meal.
    This morning I came upstairs to find teenage bodies sprawled all over the living room, sound asleep. The kitten and dogs lay snoring happily amidst the kids. But as I climbed over these young boy-men I could to help but think of the parents out in Colorado. They trusted their children to be safe at a movie premiere. What must be going through their hearts and minds this morning?
  Later as I was obseesively scouring the internet for news, for explanations, for clarity about how these things could happen, I came across a blog written by one of the victims. She had escaped a massacre up in a Canadian mall food court, one minute before a gunman opened fire. Yet that that premonition, that warning of something wrong did not keep her from harm last night after she convinced her boyfriend to attend the movie with her.
    I have nothing deep or revealing or comforting to add. I just feel overwhelmed by the horror and pain and the senselessness of it all.
  It makes sweating the small stuff seem silly. I did drop the boys off a little while ago at our safe suburban mall. There was indeed increased security. The boys of course are all blissfully unaware of it all as they eagerly discuss their movie expectations. I am glad for them. This is how it should be, 15 year old boys and their silly geeky arguments about the best Joker or the most implausible Batman special effect. If only the 15 years old in Colorado could still have that same innocence.

The MTEL from Hell

   Well I shall know in one month if I passed my math MTEL on the second try .I have heard nightmarish tales of people having to take it 4-5 times.
    Last time I studied on my own for weeks plus I had daily 7th grade math during my middle school student teaching. It was not enough however. This time in addition to my own studying I accepted sn offer of tutoring from my nephew who teaches high school math.
    Periodically during our study sessions I would mention my genius IQ,or the fact that I had already passed 6 other MTELS, on my first try! I felt it important that he know his aunt was not an idiot, since my math skills gave no hint of that.
     I discovered a few things about myself. One is that after an hour of strict concentration on math my brain gets fuzzy. After 2 hours my head aches. After 3, I have to lay down as if I had just run a marathon.
    I would post silly little update stati (is that the plural of statuses? It looks righter!!!!! It looks more correct.) I would joke with my FB readers and many many offered support and encouragement. Still as the test loomed ever nearer I had worked myself into an unhealthy and unproductive state of terror.
    Because in spite of learning (and re learning) a tremendous amount of math, there was still no guarentee I would know which equation to address which word problem. Obviously the more anxious I got the harder it was to solve any problem. This of course made me more tenses and well it is clear to see the vicious cycle.
    Breaking that cycle and remaining calm enough to be clearheaded enough might have been my biggest accomplishment. It is a 2 hour test and it took me longer than that to finish. 3 or 4 of the multiple choices I had to guess as I had no idea. I could not even narrow the multiple coices down. But otherwise I felt like I could find the answers and equations and theories they sought in their tricky questions. I think. I am not sure.
   Worse case scenario and I fail then I do not graduate until May (instead of December.) If this is the case I will pursue extra classes to get my Initial licence in both Moderate Disabilities and 1-6, elementary ed. So that is not horrible.
    The horrible is having to continue to study and possibly take the test another coupla times.
After the test (btw not airconditioned) I staggered out into the blazing sun trying ot find the van. Don was waiting and as a treat he drove us to the Attleboro Zoo. Walking around there would have been perfection itself. Naturally they were closed! But we walked along the outside park and just tried to readjust.Ifelt drained, totally wiped out. I had expected joy or at least relief. Instead I was exhausted and unsure.
    We walked around and Don treated me to dinner. Then we simply went home for a dip in the pool and a garden fire. Taking care of the goats, and picking the snap peas was soothing and now, 5 hours after the test my headache is finally gone. I wish I could have written some profound blog about the experience, but my brain cells are too strained to cooperate.
    People face all sorts of challenges in their lives. Mine today may seem foolish or simple to some. But from here, today felt fraught and overwhelming and very very hard.  To be able to just sit in the garden as night fell and listen to the peepers and the kids laughing, well tonight was a pretty good reward for all the day's effort.
  

Today as I studied math for 6 hours...

   I am taking the math MTELS again Saturday and so I have been studying like mad. I have even convinced my poor nephew (a high school math teacher) to tutor me.
   Today I told the family I was spending all day doing nothing but studying. I would run no errands, cook no meals, wash anyone's anything. I marked the date on the calendar weeks ago. Here is what else had to happen today.
Julie ride to work 8:30.
Cookie dropped off at groomers 9.
Nikki driver ed 9:30. (They will pick her up and drop her off.)
Nikki to work at 12.
Joe gets picked up at 12 in East Bridgewater.
Julie picked up from work 12:30.
Tim bike to work at 2.
Goats exercised 2-2:30. (I did this!)
Joe orthodontist at 3.
Pick up Cookie at groomers at 3. (I did this too!)
Julie to second job at 3:30
Corey work at 4
Yon to work at 5.
Catch goats who got loose and fix gate at 5:30. (I of course did this!)
Pick Nikki up from work at 7:15.
Pick Julie up from work at 7:30.
Drive Yon and Corey home from work at 9.
   Donnie always wondered why I complained about being in the car so much when he was at work. As he drove here there and everywhere, I reminded him I use to have to strap 2 or 3 kids into car seats for all the drop offs and pick ups back in the day.

Yon's stumble

   We had  lovely last day with our Ohio family. My sister and I were able to sneak out to lunch together. We had a wonderful cookout on the shore of Lake Erie and had some intense matches of volleyball and tether ball.We ate and played with our Ohio friends and horsed around in the lake. It was clearly an all around great day.
     There was only one slight mishap which really turned out to be nothing more than scrapes and bruises, but it reminded me of the awesome responsibility I have since my parents death.
  As various family members were driving or walking back from the little park on the shores of Erie, to my sister's house, some of the kids started running.
   Soon, as it so often happens in families, it became a competition with Joe well in the lead, followed by Yon and trailed by Nikki. In a great burst of speed Nikki raced ahead of Yon and as he tried to go from road to lawn he tripped and fell with a spectacular jarring thud.
   Every adult in the caravan of vehicles saw it happen and I leaped out of the van before Donnie had it in park. Yon was shaken up and scraped and bleeding but it was soon apparent that he would be fine. Walking him into the house Marge quietly asked what was needed and she got the vans first aid kit after her band aids proved too small. I carefully washed and disinfected the 3 scrapes on his knee, the 3 wicked looking torn knuckles on his right hand and the wicked  bleeding right elbow. He kept flexing his left hand which he used to help break his fall Marge made sure Chrissy got him ice before she whisked off to Walmart for big band aids.
   When Yon is physically hurt he gets shocky and sometimes he has trouble assessing where his pain is localised. As I asked him about his injuries and washed and bandaged him up I tried to keep my own mind from jumping to wrong conclusions. For instance his left hand looked swollen and was clearly sore. But in reality his strong healthy left limbs are much larger than his slight atrophied right side. His poor knuckles were so bruised because he fell directly on them with all his weight since he cannot fully straighten his right arm.
   THAT is the scary part. He is a grown man almost 40 now, athletic and strong. But he also hasa disability which makes him vulnerable to falls and then vulnerable to confusion over his hurts. I remember thinking that my mother overreacted after a Special Olympics bike race mishap sent him to the hospital with a broken tooth and facial scrapes and a hard knock to his head. After that accident she was too nervous to let him ride competitively or for pleasure.
    But trying to assess and help him tonight I once again realise the worries my mother faced in caring for him. I have for all intents and purposes become mom for him. Now we were lucky because first he was not seriously injured and second Marge's dear friend is a male ER nurse and so if something needed to be done medically I would know right who to bring him too.
   But still.....as I got him some Motrin and settled him on the couch with a nice cup of tea... I found my mind racing with what ifs....something I normally do not do after a crisis. For the rest of my life, he will always be my responsibility and that is just fine. I am glad to be able to do that as a tribute to our wonderful parents. Just sometimes, like tonight, I feel the weight of it all.  Luckily this time I had my sister with me to carry some of the weight.
    Tomorrow I will re clean all the cuts and re bandage my brother before we head over to Niagara Falls. Yon is looking forward to the boat ride and  although we will all miss our Ohio loved ones, it is time to go home.