“Seein’ things that I may never see again

And I can’t wait to get back on the road again…The life I love is making music with my friends.”

We’re at it again. Here’s Dan playing in Cherbourg, France. Abby is figuring out how to rent a car in rural Mexico. And yesterday, Rich and I flew to Chicago, grabbed a car and drove north to Oshkosh (b’gosh) to take Bud out for an A&W chili dog and root beer. That was after he took one look at his rehab dinner-”hamburger hash over rice”-and announced, “Ah! Another culinary triumph, I see!” with barely a post-stroke lisp. Actually, the food there is mostly pretty good but escaping for some fast food is a treat for him. He’s making great progress and simultaneously starting to ogle women, ala Artie Johnson. It’s funny but it’s not, you know? 

Once we got past Milwaukee and made the turn off for Fond Du Lac we passed my new favorite stretch of American highway: the windmills. This is beautiful country side, rolling green farms to the left and the right- a reminder that the entire world is not a sweltering, shimmering landscape of La Cucaracha Grande. Here, for several miles there are giant (I mean, BIG ass) windmills for as far as the eye can see. They are a little eerie, in that War of the Worlds way, but very impressive.Oshkosh itself is a lovely town and we drove Bud around a bit, admiring Lake Winnebago. At 11 miles wide and 28 miles long, it is one of the largest manmade lakes. Apparently, in the beginning, the loggers decided it would be just plain easier to flood the whole valley to move wood and they did.

We’re staying at a Hilton Garden Inn right smack next to the EAA Airventure field, billed as the World’s Greatest Aviation Celebration. During that week in July the small regional airport becomes the busiest in the world, with planes landing and taking off every 22 seconds for five days. This modest hotel is booked eight years in advance for that extravaganza but at the moment they are hosting Country USA, Oshkosh’s other big claim to fame, aside from overalls. Willie Nelson is blaring in the elevators and there are cowboy hats bobbing about in the bar, but that’s about all we’re going to see of that. This year, Oshkosh has one other limelight event that, coincidentally, they are sharing with our old neighborhood in Chicago. Public Enemies, opening soon and starring Johnny Depp and Christian Bale, was filmed one block over from us at the original Biograph Theater and then, here in Oshkosh. Oshkosh is getting ready for a big premier tomorrow, a few days ahead of the rest of the country. I’ll see it this week and maybe write a review and also a little about my family’s most infamous relative, Harry Pierpont. He was my grandmother’s cousin. Figures.

I’ll have time to post again once we get back in Chicago, with four days (hopefully relaxing for me, while Rich works, works, works) at a nice hotel. I plan to read, write, knit, walk and ride the Ferris Wheel- something I never got around to when we lived there.

Finally- that very cool sax player up front? Driving past the Oshkosh world headquarters last evening, I remembered this photo from when he modeled for Oshkosh children’s wear as a tot. Ever wistful, always special. That’s my boy.

 

119 in the shade

And there’s very little shade. Okay, so that’s not here, but you get the idea.

This is here and the inside temp AC is set at 80 and it’s only 730 am in the morning. So this gives you some idea. R.L. and I did go out and celebrate our anniversary last week and then he flew off to tape a segment on the best of American high schools for a certain Sunday morning news program. Now he’s home sick. Airplane Ack is bad enough but being in a high school, an all new petri dish of germs for him, put him over the top.  He’s toying with H1N1 the way a guy might, moaning and wanting me to feel his forehead often and look up symptoms on the internet. I told him it was merely travelitis and airplane ack and then, insensitive life partner that I am, I apparently slept through a 4am foray out to CVS where he got some of those dreadful multi-symptom cold pills. Now he’s passed out, perhaps for the day, and hopefully he’ll wake up feeling better.

I try to avoid going out at all costs. I must say, some of the sparkle has worn off scooping vulture poop. We clean raptor cages about 3pm and that’s when Florida sun seems to be directly overhead. The baby owls are thriving, turned into little hunting machines since we erected the “killing field” inside their enclosure.  They are taking after live food with enthusiasm. Now that they have no need for a food plate, they can sleep in their dish. This shot, taken by my friend Gabe, is a couple weeks old; now they look mostly grown up and the day is not far off when they will go back into the wild.So, stuck inside, I’m teaching needle felting classes and having great fun with that. I’m planning some specialty classes starting in August and September including a fall vegetable series and, for those wanting something a little more elegant, a nuno silk class. But I’m telling you right now, the pumpkins and squash are going to be very fine.This is my enthusiastic class from yesterday. I love these workshops: very creative and happy atmosphere. Personally, I’m starting to move away from owls and penguins, although I do really enjoy making those. I’m working on my detailing and also going for a touch of whimsy. Rich doesn’t know quite what to make of these items perched on the mantle. Front and back. Actually, he asked, “what is that?” when I showed him the female form. “What is that?”!  Either he’s sicker than I thought or it’s time for remedial therapy…

(Check out the size of that flower I cut from the yard. We have grasshoppers to match.) 

I think the guy on the right is waiting for large wings. I’ve ordered some foam covered wire used for tomato staking that I think will help provide some structure to those. The only thing I can think of for Venus there is a finely sculpted animal head of some sort. Still waiting for inspiration. And speaking of inspiration, how about this very cool stone? I like stones, I’ve always collected them. You just have no idea of what goes into making stones.  Now, I’m thinking of increasing the scale and having “sofa stones.” Uber chic and modern. What do you think of that idea?(And yes. It’s a great book that just goes to show that black people, historically, have been as crazy as white people in this here South.)

“There’s a great power in words, if you don’t hitch too many of them together”

I think I may be losing my touch, literally and figuratively. First off, back in the day (when I was a practicing psychotherapist) I paid some attention as I chose my words. I also stayed pretty focused on the other person. Twice now, in recent months, while my editor is what- sleeping? checking into senior housing? I’ve let words come out that, upon reflection, left me wishing I’d bit my tongue off instead.

The first time, I got into sort of a hurt feeling pissing match with a friend but the point is, she was and is again, one of my very dearest friends. Many years, book club, travel together, all of that. Someone I really love. But life got in the way and with no other excuse than that, I hurt her feelings deeply. The worst part was that for a number of weeks, I didn’t even get it and felt like I was the one entitled to be all hurt. Nursing that along, you know, while I was busy pushing away reflections on my culpability. About the time you start scoring points in your head for what was said, what wasn’t said, who has bigger worries, who is more entitled to their hurt- well, that’s just so much crap and excuse and doesn’t fly with real friendship. I love this woman and we pushed our way through it. The pain we each felt before that happened and the relief we have felt since reminds me daily of how lucky I am to have such a friend. It also reminds me that, in fact, I have a number of them, and I should be very careful about protecting such valuable gifts.

Then yesterday, in a much more benign but still insensitive and thoughtless way, I left a sort of cynical-trying-to-be-funny remark on a friend’s facebook post. It had nothing to do with what was going on with her and was totally glib and stupid. I felt crummy about that, big time. I really really don’t want to become an inconsiderate klutz with me at the center of my world. That would be lonely, dreary and a major bore.

Later in the afternoon, Rich and I went out to celebrate our anniversary; we saw a fun action film and then went to a quiet romantic dinner in Gulfport. Over dinner we talked about the evolution of our relationship and our love, the kids-always the kids, how they are growing and what we hope and wish for them. We reflected on all their strengths and the things that cause them to stumble and then we got back to remembering our life as children and the things that shaped our personalities. Rich asked me if I had always been a person who enjoyed such good friendships and communicated so comfortably with others. I hadn’t discussed any of the first part of this post with him at anytime; he was making an observation based on our company dinner the night before and then a visit from a new friend in the morning. I felt sort of smacked by his question and recalled a childhood where, absolutely, children were to be seen (if it was not possible to hide them) and never heard. And later, a childhood that had relatively little to do with the children and everything to do with how the grownups were feeling or behaving. And an adolescence of total geekiness-awkward and clumsy and shy. That persisted through my first few years of college away from home and then, I sort of changed. Although I’m still more shy than people think.

I’m not sure what changes people, even after so many years of trying to help people change- their approach, their perspectives, their responses. I think that probably becoming a mother changed me the most and secondly, becoming a therapist. Becoming Rich’s wife fairly late in life has changed me in the way that feeling solidly and securely loved and in love increases your patience, your tolerance, calms you down.

And finally, last night I was trying to knit on a lace shawl I started with baby fine mohair as fine as a hair on your head. This is utter madness. I probably won’t live long enough even if my right hand wasn’t screaming at me with tendonitis and yet it’s so beautiful, knit up. I went to make a scrabble move against friend, Kenju, and my right finger yowled. So I typed in a google search for tendonitis and found the usual hysterical bulletin board type responses where people had achieved effective relief after 8 years of agonizing pain with cervical spine fusion and lots of oxycodone. I suspect the cure for me is a closer check on my words, written on Facebook and spoken aloud and this may be Somebody’s way of poking me about becoming lazy, thoughtless and self- indulgent. Or, it’s just the goddamn lace.

The view from here

The week in photos, taken between last Friday morning and this. The final two days were a major challenge, to clear out and leave it for the next couple in the way I would want my new home. And I guess it was a home, after all. Not the sort to spend a lifetime, but Chicago is, indeed, a magnificent city. And even more than Lincoln Park Zoo or Lyric Opera or concerts at Millennium and the best sushi ever, we made lifetime friends there. The challenge is to maintain those friendships over time and distance but I fully intend to do that.As the moving van pulled away I saw this in front of the condo. Sometimes it’s hard to know who travels easier in this life.Last week, I wrote that life can be so bittersweet. This photo captures what I meant precisely and I can barely look at it without crying.After miles and weeks apart, we brought Robert up to visit Bud at the extended care facility. Laurel rescued the two cats from the isolation of Lost Loon Lodge and Bud is in a place where he is getting wonderful rehab from people who are compassionate and skilled. And yet. Bobby spent a brief several minutes pacing the parameters/perimeter of the room and then, two friends that they are, they had a good long chat. I didn’t get a picture of Bear, Laurel’s dog. We decided it was more important for this reunion first and Bear has all that happy lab energy that might be a bit much as Bud is just settling in. We’re not sure what the next step will be. LLL, much like Bud, needs some serious rehabbing but for now, it’s a step at a time for all of us.After too many nights away from Rich, I drove back down that miserable I94 corridor to O’Hare and caught the last night flight out to Florida. McCloud expresses my sentiments exactly about being back in the bed where I belong.I woke up to that full flush of heat and humidity that is Florida in the summer. It’s ghastly and we’re just barely into June. Nevertheless, I am now witnessing the way things grow in this tropical clime. My tree fern, on it’s third year, has gone from 1 ft to 5 ft…The orchids and cactus hanging on the fence are all abloom…Without being retouched, in a color only Mother Nature could dream up.She does a good job in plain white, too.Last night I dreamt that we forgot to pack our beautiful cherry Shaker bed and I was trying to figure out how to get it back from the new owners. I couldn’t get back to sleep for a bit but I did find this fellow hanging on the screen. I could almost make an anole cross stitch pattern out of this…but right now, I still have a few boxes to unpack.