Sunday, December 7, 2008
Tea Sites
StumbleUpon just led me to a great site for tea lovers. Gong Fu Girl appears to be Seattle-based. She posts lots of thoughtful information about buying, brewing, and enjoying tea, including links to tea houses in the area. I've added her site to my "Links I Like" list.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Of the essence
In my last post, I listed some of the projects that we are working on. You might have gotten an idea of the outrageous level of mess and confusion I've been living with these last few months. For me the baseline for living is a clean and orderly environment in which to work, so the mess and confusion is a major issue. Added to that are worries about the economy (national and personal) and about the ecology. This is the kind of thing that spins me out and makes me completely dysfunctional.
And yet...
I am profoundly content. And I think it has to do with keeping the chickens and goats.
I wouldn't say that chickens and goats inevitably confer contentment. But for me, having critters in my life is literally essential: it resonates with the essence of who I am. Back when I was working with Curt Rosengren, the Passion Catalyst, he said to me, "You are all about Life." (I was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that the place I worked, which is not at all about Life, was a really bad fit for me.)
There is, apparently, some inborn farmer in me. It skipped a generation and I never got to spend much time with any of my grandparents, so who knew?
I just recently learned from my mother that both of my grandmothers loved to work outside. I knew that my father's mother worked in the fields a lot, but I had not known that it was her preference. Turns out she had a team of horses and hired out to neighbors as well as working her own acreage, back in the Depression when she was a single mom. I never even got to meet her; she died while my dad was still in high school. We would have had so much fun together.
My mother's father was good with animals, plants, and the land itself. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, before anyone was talking about contour farming, he used what he called "lay of the land." He pruned trees with a pocket knife, gently pruning the branches while they were still the tiniest of twigs. That takes getting to know each tree and shrub as an individual, and visiting it often. He could work with animals that no one else could get near. He had a series of farms that he bought when they were worthless and built up to be valuable, productive land. He died, a very old man, when I was five. I was with him perhaps a week in all of my life. But I find that I look at land and plants and animals the same way that he did. How did this gift come down to me? I think that my mother acquired his outlook on life, and it has informed everything she does all of these years. And that in turn was passed on to me. It's about respect and responsibility toward each living thing around you, and joy in sharing the world with all these kinds of life. It is about letting them be who and what they are -- reveling in who and what they are -- even when you must take complete control over their lives.
I am content because I have in my life what is essential to me. What is essential to you?
And yet...
I am profoundly content. And I think it has to do with keeping the chickens and goats.
I wouldn't say that chickens and goats inevitably confer contentment. But for me, having critters in my life is literally essential: it resonates with the essence of who I am. Back when I was working with Curt Rosengren, the Passion Catalyst, he said to me, "You are all about Life." (I was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that the place I worked, which is not at all about Life, was a really bad fit for me.)
There is, apparently, some inborn farmer in me. It skipped a generation and I never got to spend much time with any of my grandparents, so who knew?
I just recently learned from my mother that both of my grandmothers loved to work outside. I knew that my father's mother worked in the fields a lot, but I had not known that it was her preference. Turns out she had a team of horses and hired out to neighbors as well as working her own acreage, back in the Depression when she was a single mom. I never even got to meet her; she died while my dad was still in high school. We would have had so much fun together.
My mother's father was good with animals, plants, and the land itself. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, before anyone was talking about contour farming, he used what he called "lay of the land." He pruned trees with a pocket knife, gently pruning the branches while they were still the tiniest of twigs. That takes getting to know each tree and shrub as an individual, and visiting it often. He could work with animals that no one else could get near. He had a series of farms that he bought when they were worthless and built up to be valuable, productive land. He died, a very old man, when I was five. I was with him perhaps a week in all of my life. But I find that I look at land and plants and animals the same way that he did. How did this gift come down to me? I think that my mother acquired his outlook on life, and it has informed everything she does all of these years. And that in turn was passed on to me. It's about respect and responsibility toward each living thing around you, and joy in sharing the world with all these kinds of life. It is about letting them be who and what they are -- reveling in who and what they are -- even when you must take complete control over their lives.
I am content because I have in my life what is essential to me. What is essential to you?
Friday, October 31, 2008
What a hectic summer it has been!
The Mysterious Traveler pointed out that I've not been blogging. This led me to two startling realizations:
Remove sick trees
We knew we had a couple of sick trees. And I'd been talking with Josh (who we were renting goats from) about doing some landscaping. He does trees. So we had him look at the suspicious trees, and he pointed out some that we had not realized were a concern. I mean, he could walk up and stick his hand into a rotted trunk. So...
All told we took out 17 trees. At the base, they ranged in diameter from about 14 " to close to 5'. And in a lot of cases they were more rot than wood at the base. For example, the three maple trunks growing over our bedroom (actually over our bed) had a thin ring of wood around a massive hole in the center. I don't know how we got through winter storms the past few years without being crushed as we slept.
There is a lot of wood in 17 tall trees. Even after you discount the rotted parts. Really, really. A LOT of wood. We have
All this tree cutting suffered some delays. Not through any fault of Josh's, I hasten to add. Mostly problems getting the crane operator out to pluck up the trees closest to the house as they were cut, and lay them gently in place for the miller. The guy who finally showed up was a prima donna who laid out the wood in a haphazard pile. When we could get him off the phone long enough to work. It was September by the time we had the trees down, and then we had to rent a backhoe to rearrange them so the miller could access them.
Get my goat(s)
I mentioned in my last post, ever so long ago, that I was considering goats. I got goats, I love the goats, but it was a rough start. Of the three little goatlings that Josh brought out for me to choose from, one died within 48 hours, and another a couple of weeks later. Josh looked at everything I was doing, where I kept them, what food they had access to, and assured me I really was not doing anything wrong. We never did figure out what happened to the first casualty. Josh took Sadie home for a backyard autopsy. She had eaten a handful of dry ferns (why, with all the lush green available to her???) and that blocked her up and gave her a bit of bloat. Which she probably would have survived; we were treating it. But she had a wee bit of a cold. Which she probably would have gotten over quickly. But with the bloat, she was laying down. And laying down was the worst thing for her cold. It turned into pneumonia. From eating the dry stuff to death was maybe 18 hours.
Rosie, meanwhile, was robustly healthy. Eating her way through a forest of blackberries, sweet, smart, and energetic. She even dealt well with being an only goat for a few weeks. Now I have Rosie and Gigi. Rosie is the clear leader & the brains of the operation. Gigi lets Rosie pull things down where she can reach them -- or calls for me to do it. Gigi is purebred Nubian; Rosie is 3/4 Alpine and 1/4 Kiko (and that Kiko is probably the source of her smarts and vigor).
Together they've cleared the back yard. We can see the trunks of the trees along the road in the back yard. We moved into this house nine years ago, and we have never seen those trunks before. They were smothered in blackberries.
Butterfly lady has extended a standing invitation to the girls to dine on their blackberries, so Rosie and Gigi are busy extending the neighbors' meadow.
Clear the coop area
Early in the summer, we identified a good area for the chicken coop -- at the road end of the back drive. It had a scattering of brambles and scrub, and it was really uneven ground, and it had a pile of mixed brush on top of an old maple log blocking access.
We cleared it.
It filled up with trim from the big (BIG!) cedar that needed to come down.
Chipped the branches -- coop area was clear.
Then the crane operator filled it with trees.
Himself moved those to the far side of the driveway, and then filled the area with logs positioned to roll onto the portable mill.
The millers cut that, then started work on the logs in the front yard.
Himself staged the rest of the logs on the coop area. (Seventeen trees. A LOT of wood. Lordy, lordy!)
The millers cut all but the marginal stuff at the back of the stack.
Himself cut the marginal stuff into rounds, and Millionaires helped move that to the driveway (where it now forms an impenetrable wall) when they were out to help move the heaviest lumber.
Now the coop area is pretty much clear. The slabs from the outside of the logs are pushed to one side, in a pile about 12' long and 6' high and 5' deep. When we can get to the coop area (past the wall of rounds in the driveway), we can rake it smooth, shovel in some sawdust and maybe some gravel so we (never mind the coop) don't sink out of site in the muck, and start building. The girls can hardly wait. I mean, really. They need their coop!
Eat chicken
Did I mention that two of the chickens turned out to be roosters? Those roosters turned out to be vicious. Rhymes with delicious, which they were also. I was the only one who could go into the pen once those roosters matured, and I had to constantly watch my back. Collecting eggs should not be dangerous.
Really, I didn't know chicken could be so flavorful. The pullets get table scraps, and boy did they enjoy the rooster left-overs. Himself was convinced that they knew exactly who they were tearing into. (The roosters were a bit rough on their girls -- but not as bad as they were on us.)
Tidy up the back yard
I mentioned the goats. They do a great job eating leaves and small stems off the brambles. I spent a lot of happy hours with the goats, clipping out the bigger branches so they could keep moving through the yard. Among other things, they cleared access to one of the trees that needed to come down.
Having the backhoe let us do a few other things -- take out stumps both new and old in the back yard, etc. We've been burning half-rotted stumps & roots off and on since the burn season started (1 October). I've scattered clover seed on the exposed earth, and started separating out the stones.
Right now, though, the back yard looks pretty raw.
We've identified a fence line; we will need to build fences to keep the neighbor's dogs away from the livestock. That's another story.
Bury my father's ashes
When enough of the back yard was cleared, we were able to access the spot where I wanted to plant a willow and bury my father's ashes. We had a tiny ceremony on his birthday. It was harder than I expected, but gives an element of closure.
Get things organized indoors
Himself started with the lovely room over the garage, that had been wasted on storage while designated as my sewing room. We've been going through everything, making a conscious decision whether to keep each item. I need to list the things we have decided to sell; donations have been going out in batches. We are maybe halfway through this project and I can't remember the last time we didn't have boxes of stuff everywhere -- all through the house, and on both porches.
I even burned old financial records -- cancelled checks from the '70s and '80s and '90s. That was hard. It was like burning diaries. So much of my life is recorded only in those old records.
Paying work
I did a little faux finishing. More technical writing at this point. I do that part time, for one client. I work from home & set my own hours, and check the goats and chickens on breaks.
Beadwork
Learned netting and ndebele stitch, and used them in some necklaces that came out great. I will get pix and post them.
- It really HAS been a long time since I posted anything.
- Someone is actually reading what I post.
Remove sick trees
We knew we had a couple of sick trees. And I'd been talking with Josh (who we were renting goats from) about doing some landscaping. He does trees. So we had him look at the suspicious trees, and he pointed out some that we had not realized were a concern. I mean, he could walk up and stick his hand into a rotted trunk. So...
All told we took out 17 trees. At the base, they ranged in diameter from about 14 " to close to 5'. And in a lot of cases they were more rot than wood at the base. For example, the three maple trunks growing over our bedroom (actually over our bed) had a thin ring of wood around a massive hole in the center. I don't know how we got through winter storms the past few years without being crushed as we slept.
There is a lot of wood in 17 tall trees. Even after you discount the rotted parts. Really, really. A LOT of wood. We have
- Hillocks of chipped brush and ground stumps.
- A wall of massive rounds of firewood completely that blocks the back driveway.
- The woodshed is nearly full of split wood.
- There are towering heaps of split wood waiting to be stacked. Somewhere. (Note: Hydraulic log splitters are good things.)
- And we bought 2 Costco tents to shelter the sawn lumber.
All this tree cutting suffered some delays. Not through any fault of Josh's, I hasten to add. Mostly problems getting the crane operator out to pluck up the trees closest to the house as they were cut, and lay them gently in place for the miller. The guy who finally showed up was a prima donna who laid out the wood in a haphazard pile. When we could get him off the phone long enough to work. It was September by the time we had the trees down, and then we had to rent a backhoe to rearrange them so the miller could access them.
Get my goat(s)
I mentioned in my last post, ever so long ago, that I was considering goats. I got goats, I love the goats, but it was a rough start. Of the three little goatlings that Josh brought out for me to choose from, one died within 48 hours, and another a couple of weeks later. Josh looked at everything I was doing, where I kept them, what food they had access to, and assured me I really was not doing anything wrong. We never did figure out what happened to the first casualty. Josh took Sadie home for a backyard autopsy. She had eaten a handful of dry ferns (why, with all the lush green available to her???) and that blocked her up and gave her a bit of bloat. Which she probably would have survived; we were treating it. But she had a wee bit of a cold. Which she probably would have gotten over quickly. But with the bloat, she was laying down. And laying down was the worst thing for her cold. It turned into pneumonia. From eating the dry stuff to death was maybe 18 hours.
Rosie, meanwhile, was robustly healthy. Eating her way through a forest of blackberries, sweet, smart, and energetic. She even dealt well with being an only goat for a few weeks. Now I have Rosie and Gigi. Rosie is the clear leader & the brains of the operation. Gigi lets Rosie pull things down where she can reach them -- or calls for me to do it. Gigi is purebred Nubian; Rosie is 3/4 Alpine and 1/4 Kiko (and that Kiko is probably the source of her smarts and vigor).
Together they've cleared the back yard. We can see the trunks of the trees along the road in the back yard. We moved into this house nine years ago, and we have never seen those trunks before. They were smothered in blackberries.
Butterfly lady has extended a standing invitation to the girls to dine on their blackberries, so Rosie and Gigi are busy extending the neighbors' meadow.
Clear the coop area
Early in the summer, we identified a good area for the chicken coop -- at the road end of the back drive. It had a scattering of brambles and scrub, and it was really uneven ground, and it had a pile of mixed brush on top of an old maple log blocking access.
We cleared it.
It filled up with trim from the big (BIG!) cedar that needed to come down.
Chipped the branches -- coop area was clear.
Then the crane operator filled it with trees.
Himself moved those to the far side of the driveway, and then filled the area with logs positioned to roll onto the portable mill.
The millers cut that, then started work on the logs in the front yard.
Himself staged the rest of the logs on the coop area. (Seventeen trees. A LOT of wood. Lordy, lordy!)
The millers cut all but the marginal stuff at the back of the stack.
Himself cut the marginal stuff into rounds, and Millionaires helped move that to the driveway (where it now forms an impenetrable wall) when they were out to help move the heaviest lumber.
Now the coop area is pretty much clear. The slabs from the outside of the logs are pushed to one side, in a pile about 12' long and 6' high and 5' deep. When we can get to the coop area (past the wall of rounds in the driveway), we can rake it smooth, shovel in some sawdust and maybe some gravel so we (never mind the coop) don't sink out of site in the muck, and start building. The girls can hardly wait. I mean, really. They need their coop!
Eat chicken
Did I mention that two of the chickens turned out to be roosters? Those roosters turned out to be vicious. Rhymes with delicious, which they were also. I was the only one who could go into the pen once those roosters matured, and I had to constantly watch my back. Collecting eggs should not be dangerous.
Really, I didn't know chicken could be so flavorful. The pullets get table scraps, and boy did they enjoy the rooster left-overs. Himself was convinced that they knew exactly who they were tearing into. (The roosters were a bit rough on their girls -- but not as bad as they were on us.)
Tidy up the back yard
I mentioned the goats. They do a great job eating leaves and small stems off the brambles. I spent a lot of happy hours with the goats, clipping out the bigger branches so they could keep moving through the yard. Among other things, they cleared access to one of the trees that needed to come down.
Having the backhoe let us do a few other things -- take out stumps both new and old in the back yard, etc. We've been burning half-rotted stumps & roots off and on since the burn season started (1 October). I've scattered clover seed on the exposed earth, and started separating out the stones.
Right now, though, the back yard looks pretty raw.
We've identified a fence line; we will need to build fences to keep the neighbor's dogs away from the livestock. That's another story.
Bury my father's ashes
When enough of the back yard was cleared, we were able to access the spot where I wanted to plant a willow and bury my father's ashes. We had a tiny ceremony on his birthday. It was harder than I expected, but gives an element of closure.
Get things organized indoors
Himself started with the lovely room over the garage, that had been wasted on storage while designated as my sewing room. We've been going through everything, making a conscious decision whether to keep each item. I need to list the things we have decided to sell; donations have been going out in batches. We are maybe halfway through this project and I can't remember the last time we didn't have boxes of stuff everywhere -- all through the house, and on both porches.
I even burned old financial records -- cancelled checks from the '70s and '80s and '90s. That was hard. It was like burning diaries. So much of my life is recorded only in those old records.
Paying work
I did a little faux finishing. More technical writing at this point. I do that part time, for one client. I work from home & set my own hours, and check the goats and chickens on breaks.
Beadwork
Learned netting and ndebele stitch, and used them in some necklaces that came out great. I will get pix and post them.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Structural Materials from Cellulose?
My Google home page led me to this article: New 'super-paper' is stronger than cast iron.
I love this. A gentler processing method for extracting cellulose yields a strong, resilient material. We get structural strength from renewable resources. I look forward to seeing where this takes us.
I love this. A gentler processing method for extracting cellulose yields a strong, resilient material. We get structural strength from renewable resources. I look forward to seeing where this takes us.
Monday, May 19, 2008
The information junkie considers goats
First, I must confess that I am an information junkie. I collect information like a pack rat. When I'm stressed, I collect information frenetically. Not necessarily information that pertains to the issue at hand. Any and all information will do. Some odd detail about issues facing Andean potato farmers? I'm all over it. My wonderful psychologist suggested that, when stressed, I NOT listen to NPR.
So you can imagine what I'm like when considering a new venture.
Like, um, keeping goats.
You see, the brush is growing back. And there were areas that the goats couldn't get to because the ground was wet etc. And they are really, really nice animals. I was talking to Butterfly Woman yesterday, and she's thinking the same thing. Maybe we could go in together on a pair of goats. They have an old dog run on their property that could be the basis of a goat shed... hmmm...
So this morning the information junky was sitting in front of her computer, thinking about goats, and found the most wonderful site: Fias Co Farm. Excellent, practical information on goat care. And I'm definitely going to get some of the herbals they sell.
I've been planning to write "The information junkie considers chickens" for weeks now. I'll let you know how I organize the information (all on my computer; the last thing I need is more paper around the house!) And I'll give you a more complete list of links than the short list in the sidebar. Keep an eye out for it!
So you can imagine what I'm like when considering a new venture.
Like, um, keeping goats.
You see, the brush is growing back. And there were areas that the goats couldn't get to because the ground was wet etc. And they are really, really nice animals. I was talking to Butterfly Woman yesterday, and she's thinking the same thing. Maybe we could go in together on a pair of goats. They have an old dog run on their property that could be the basis of a goat shed... hmmm...
So this morning the information junky was sitting in front of her computer, thinking about goats, and found the most wonderful site: Fias Co Farm. Excellent, practical information on goat care. And I'm definitely going to get some of the herbals they sell.
I've been planning to write "The information junkie considers chickens" for weeks now. I'll let you know how I organize the information (all on my computer; the last thing I need is more paper around the house!) And I'll give you a more complete list of links than the short list in the sidebar. Keep an eye out for it!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sun on the feathers
Today we had an abnormally warm day, and I decided to take the chicks out to the front yard for a bit of sun.
The pen had three sections for the three flocks, although I hoped to bring that down to two flocks by the end of the day. The Specs are three weeks old and fast outgrowing their tub brooder.
Here are some of the Ameraucanas stretching in the sunlight, while Speckled Sussex chicks watch the big girls through the wire. The Amers loved the sun -- they'd lay on their side and spread their feathers out to the sun, exposing as much skin as they could.
After a while, the Specs found a way around the barrier between the pens and started venturing into the section with the Amers. To our relief, they were mostly ignored by the big girls, except for Rachel who would fly at them with talons out. But she made no effort to actually hurt the chicks, even when she had one cornered. She just wanted to make sure they know who's boss. The Specs have always been so full of themselves, it's kind of nice to see them taken down a notch.
Here is a shot of Rachel, showing off her black cape. As chickens go, she looks a lot like an eagle.
We did have eagles out today: a huge bald eagle and a much smaller one, very high up. It looked like a flying lesson.
Another large bird -- eagle or large hawk -- came in closer, definately eyeing the chickens. Butterfly Woman saw it in the treetops of the yard and raised the alarm. As it flew close overhead we could see very distinctive markings on the underside of its wings. No pics of that one -- I was too busy getting a cover over the chicks. It watched as we spread out the linen we'd used an a shade cover and the hardware cloth we'd been using as a divider between the Specs and Amers. Then it waggled its tail at us and flew away.
The Aussie chicks got to get out too. Here they are resting in the sunlight.
This is not a matter of taking them out and letting them run free -- too many predators & too many chicks to chase.
So I had to rig up a holding pen for them. I have scrap lumber and hardware cloth. Himself prefers that we not use up material that could go toward the desperately needed hen house, so I'm trying not to cut or nail anything. I'd be shy about cutting anyway, since I avoid using his tools or getting into his workspace.
I succeeded in putting together a VERY rough pen with boards (some of them already nailed together), a plastic table on its side, a pitchfork, a weed bag... you get the picture. My wonderful neighbor, Butterfly Woman, helped me rig up the last of it and load in the chickens.
The pen had three sections for the three flocks, although I hoped to bring that down to two flocks by the end of the day. The Specs are three weeks old and fast outgrowing their tub brooder.
Here are some of the Ameraucanas stretching in the sunlight, while Speckled Sussex chicks watch the big girls through the wire. The Amers loved the sun -- they'd lay on their side and spread their feathers out to the sun, exposing as much skin as they could.After a while, the Specs found a way around the barrier between the pens and started venturing into the section with the Amers. To our relief, they were mostly ignored by the big girls, except for Rachel who would fly at them with talons out. But she made no effort to actually hurt the chicks, even when she had one cornered. She just wanted to make sure they know who's boss. The Specs have always been so full of themselves, it's kind of nice to see them taken down a notch.
Here is a shot of Rachel, showing off her black cape. As chickens go, she looks a lot like an eagle.We did have eagles out today: a huge bald eagle and a much smaller one, very high up. It looked like a flying lesson.
Another large bird -- eagle or large hawk -- came in closer, definately eyeing the chickens. Butterfly Woman saw it in the treetops of the yard and raised the alarm. As it flew close overhead we could see very distinctive markings on the underside of its wings. No pics of that one -- I was too busy getting a cover over the chicks. It watched as we spread out the linen we'd used an a shade cover and the hardware cloth we'd been using as a divider between the Specs and Amers. Then it waggled its tail at us and flew away.
The Aussie chicks got to get out too. Here they are resting in the sunlight.Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Pics!
I'm finally adding pics to the blog. Check out the Caprine Dream Team post. I'll add to the chicken posts later. I still don't have it working as easily as it should, but at least it is sorta working.
My computer does not recognize an SD card in its own drive, but it turns out that it does recognize it in the printer (or in my Windows Mobile device, when it deigns to recognize the PDA). Whatever. I was able to import into Picassa.
And from Picassa, I could add them to a web album. Or with ridiculous effort paste them into an existing blog post.
My computer does not recognize an SD card in its own drive, but it turns out that it does recognize it in the printer (or in my Windows Mobile device, when it deigns to recognize the PDA). Whatever. I was able to import into Picassa.
And from Picassa, I could add them to a web album. Or with ridiculous effort paste them into an existing blog post.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Testing the predator-proof cage
I had the chicken cage on the back porch nicely screened with bubble wrap on 3 sides, but tonight when I went to tuck the girls in (i.e., toss a drop cloth over the remaining side) the bubble wrap was shredded. Raccoons, I'm sure. Tomorrow I put on a better latch, before they figure out how easy the makeshift one would be to open.
When we build the hen house it will be a fortress.
When we build the hen house it will be a fortress.
Annie Get Your Gun
Last night Himself and I went to see a great live performance of Annie Get Your Gun. Our neighbor, Renaissance Man, is doing the drums for the performance and invited us to the "night before opening" rehearsal.
The performance was thoroughly enjoyable. The cast (and the music!) is good all around, but the woman playing Annie is just amazing. Watching her transitions between bodacious and vulnerable really drew me in to the story. And her voice, both singing and speaking, is beautiful and expressive.
If you get a chance, check it out.
Venue: Magnuson Park Recreation/Theatre
7400 Sand Point Way NE
View Ridge (Sand Point/Magnuson Park), SEATTLE
206-363-2809
Opening Night: Friday, May 9, 2008
Closes: Sunday, May 25, 2008
The performance was thoroughly enjoyable. The cast (and the music!) is good all around, but the woman playing Annie is just amazing. Watching her transitions between bodacious and vulnerable really drew me in to the story. And her voice, both singing and speaking, is beautiful and expressive.
If you get a chance, check it out.
Venue: Magnuson Park Recreation/Theatre
7400 Sand Point Way NE
View Ridge (Sand Point/Magnuson Park), SEATTLE
206-363-2809
Opening Night: Friday, May 9, 2008
Closes: Sunday, May 25, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
A hard anniversary
A week ago I had one of the harder anniversaries in life. My father died May 2, 2007. There were a lot of good things in the manner of his passing. We had a heads up in October, followed by surgery that seemed to be successful. When the cancer came back we had a scant two months -- long enough to come to terms, and long enough to say all the goodbyes. He was alert and relaxed a week before he died. There were just four days when it took two of us to take care of him, and we were able to do that at home, with hospice services. Morphine kept his pain at bay, and his head clear. He died in his sleep after a long life. In his last weeks all the fears that had constricted his life seemed to fall away, and he was more alive than I'd ever seen him.
All that is fine. But none of it changes the fact that a year ago I lost my Daddy.
I was in a REALLY pissy mood on May 2, 2008. I was on an astonishingly short fuse -- had to call someone back to apologize for yelling at them. (The issue was real, but my tone of voice was uncalled for and, more to the point, counter-productive.)
Last year, I was in that shocky buffer zone that keeps you functioning after a loss. Last year I spent months dealing with the paper work and errands connected with a loss, giving my mother time to grieve for the only sweetheart she ever had. This year, I had no buffers.
Just a suggestion, but if you lose someone close to you note the anniversary on your calendar and plan to be someplace comforting that week. Plan to be non-functional.
All that is fine. But none of it changes the fact that a year ago I lost my Daddy.
I was in a REALLY pissy mood on May 2, 2008. I was on an astonishingly short fuse -- had to call someone back to apologize for yelling at them. (The issue was real, but my tone of voice was uncalled for and, more to the point, counter-productive.)
Last year, I was in that shocky buffer zone that keeps you functioning after a loss. Last year I spent months dealing with the paper work and errands connected with a loss, giving my mother time to grieve for the only sweetheart she ever had. This year, I had no buffers.
Just a suggestion, but if you lose someone close to you note the anniversary on your calendar and plan to be someplace comforting that week. Plan to be non-functional.
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