Priceless Friends

I had dinner with two dear friends last night.  May not sound like much to blog about at first, but you have to understand I don’t get out much.  My sweet husband’s idea of taking me out is having dinner on our back deck.  If he really wants to make it romantic, he’ll make sure Duke’s water bowl is full so we can dine with the sound of  “lapping waves”.  But my man and the Duke are at the family Ranch this weekend.  There is much man-stuff to do, you know – tractor repair, target practice, framing and wiring for the remodel of the old house, wild hog hunting at night, but no duck hunting because the season is over.  And plenty of good food too, my husband and his brother are both fabulous cooks.  But that’s another blog.

Back to my dinner with friends.  It had been an intense day at work for me, with a little more than the usual stress, so I was really ready to sit down in a nice atmosphere with people I enjoy and have someone wait on me.  We chose a nice upscale (that’s just a fancy word for pricey) restaurant near work; I was there and seated by 6.  Thankfully our drinks and appetizers just made it in under their ‘half-price apps ‘til 6’ – good food always tastes so much better when it’s ½ price.  And yes, the entrees were excellent as well, but the best thing about the meal was the company.   You can go to a nice restaurant any time – well, you can if you are blessed with a job and room in your budget for eating out.  But in this crazy-busy world we live in finding a night that meets everyone’s schedule to have dinner with friends is not something to take for granted.  

These two are particularly special to me.  They were both part of my church family during some extremely hard years while my kids were growing up.  One was my daughter’s youth leader at church for a number of years; not only was that youth group an important stable part of her life back then, but it was at a youth retreat that she accepted Christ as a teenager, so I am particularly fond of her for helping to channel my daughter into God’s plan.   As it happened the other friend was more of an influence in my son’s life; their temperaments are quite suited to one another.  His teen years were tumultuous, but the steady exposure to quality people like these two who really cared about him was a huge factor in him turning into a fairly well-grounded young man.  He learned early on that God’s Plan A is other people.

I’ve shared women’s retreats, worked on retreat teams, sang in the choir and had some excellent laughs over the years with these friends.  It’s a part of my past I wouldn’t trade for anything.  What makes it all the more special is that now we are still good friends – better friends, in fact, than before.  And when we share a meal we can talk about the present but we can also easily talk about the past because they know my history, and I know some of theirs.   It’s a bond you can’t buy or fashion in a few weeks or pretend like you have when you don’t.

Great Meal – just a tad over-priced.  Great Friends – priceless.

From Typing Service to Smartphone

When I was in college I had a part-time job as a typist at a typing service.   Before the days of personal computers people would bring their resumes and dissertations to professional typists who would prepare the final document for a fee.  We were paid by the hour.  Clients would have to come in for a proofing session with a hardcopy form to log all revisions so that we could make changes and produce the perfect final copy  - without benefit of a backspace-correct key - prior to getting paid. 

The typewriters in the shop were special.  They were electrically powered but used individual metal key bars that hit the page based as the key was pressed.  The owner had an amazing collection of different sets of keys.  We would use a bail wire to change out a single key or entire set, and I learned to type in mathematical symbols, scientific characters and even a foreign language.  I couldn’t believe what all could be done with the equipment we were provided.  That was in 1975.

Last night I attended a Smartphone class.  Sounds pretty hokey to all you 20-somethings out there, attending a class to learn all the features of your smart phone.  But I’ve seen a lot of technological advances in my time on earth, and I don’t want to miss out on any functionality that is available to me at the touch of a fingertip.  We were divided into classes based on the model of our phone.  My husband was in a different class than I was – one for dudes with ‘studly’ phones.  But even the features on my phone blew me away – who knew I would have a powerful computer the size of ¼ a deck of cards that could do internet searches based on my speaking a few words, or use GPS to locate a nearby restaurant or display a constellation or organize 8g of picture and video?  Heck, who knew I would even be able to halfway speak the terminology?  All of us take for granted the amazing world we live in, but I hope I never get too cynical or worldly to simply be amazed at what is accessible to me and others with the means to acquire such devices.

My phone doesn’t have voice to text, and the voice dialer just doesn’t work well with my voice.  But my husband, oh he is a whiz at asking that thing questions, or commanding that it call a certain person, or asking it to search for something.  While I was preparing to go to bed, I marveled as my husband asked his phone to tell him the current temperature and the expected low for the evening so we would know how to prepare the outside of our home.   He asked me if I had a question to ask of it, and the one that came to mind is not something I’d share on this blog.   But it gave us both a good laugh and reminded me that in this world of instant information some things are better left to be discovered at the pace of relationship, and that there is value in anticipation, discovery, and wonder.

New Doors and Eeyore Too

So we priced those new French doors for the living room, following the Duke Disaster.  Wow, I had no idea a set of those doors could cost $2,000.   Without installation.  My husband, being a man of his word, was determined to try and make up for the Duke damage by replacing the new doors.  But after we poured over the color glossys of different styles, I told him that all we really needed was new security.  If there was a way to make the doors we have lock securely with just the easy turn of a knob, I would be all for it.  He promised to work on it on Saturday.

And boy did he deliver.  I was out that morning doing errands and visiting with my son, and when I returned home Mr. Handyman greeted me with the news that the doors were fixed.  I was so excited I dumped the mail onto the couch and walked over to check it out.  A brand new shiny deadbolt lock was perfectly mounted on one door, two new strike-plates fixed sturdily into the other, and the lock moved easily from open to closed.  Duke was standing on the other side hoping to be let into the house where previously he had to break and enter.  But I had other ideas.  I opened the door, said “Stay”, and then closed it and locked it with one quick flip of the knob.  I did my happy dance, and I confess I even said “nanny nanny boo boo” in a singsong voice to the Dukester who was still standing on the other side.  I tested my speed on opening, closing and locking the door several times, each time ending with a different salutation to the Duke:  “Love ya, bye!”  “See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya!”   “Hey look, I’m in and you’re out!”   It’s the little things in life that make us happy, and I am proud to stand before you and say I am a very happy wife.  And my husband is a very smart – and handy – man.

There are other surprising new developments from the Duke Disaster.  Saturday husband discovered Eeyore buried in some bushes in the back yard!   He was wet and muddy but completely intact and hardly showing signs of trauma.  I’ve already replaced the original Eeyore from a previous Duke invasion - that Eeyore ended up just a pile of cotton stuffing.  I didn’t even list him on my list of casualties, thinking that perhaps I wasn’t meant to have Eeyore on my Pooh Bear and friends shelf.  But here he was, dripping wet and ready to be cleaned and brave the Grandkids Room once again.  This is progress!   This is good news indeed!!

Replacement Grandma Bear came in the mail today, and she is happily adjusting to her new home on the Berenstain Bear books shelf.   She will never know the anxiety of wondering when the Duke will wander in, ready for bear.

Polishing my Monuments

There’s a place in the Old Testament, not sure which scripture, that talks about memorializing and remembering the important events in your life.  The Hebrew people built altars and placed stones to commemorate significant places and events.  A sermon I heard once called it “polishing your monuments”.  The goal is to celebrate the victories God has won for you after the periods of testing and trial, learn from them, and always remember.  When you do life becomes richer; you experience personal growth and maturity, and life can be very satisfying.

Earlier this week I celebrated my 9^th anniversary at my company.  It has been a wild ride from the 5 of us in a borrowed conference room, an old desktop and monitor on loan from a co-worker, using the “sneaker-network” to print, and our first set of office supplies –a yellow legal pad and a few pens and highlighters – to the coast-to-coast company with over 100 employees that I now have the privilege of helping to manage.  What a blessing to be a part of such a fine organization, work with great people, and hold a position that suits my skill set and is so fulfilling.

I wasn’t always good at this monument-polishing thing.  Life was crazy in my early 20’s and I wouldn’t have recognized a monument moment if it bit me in the you-know-what.  But they were there.  I can see now how certain people were placed in my path in ways that could only be divine appointments.  How I came to work for my current boss is one; friends I made during that time that are still good friends today is another.  When I was a young married with toddlers, God placed me in a great church and I began to really study and learn about the Bible.  That foundational digging in the Word grounded me and kept my faith growing and strong during the years that followed when I was a single mom with two teenagers.  

Some of our struggles were the kind you wouldn’t wish on anyone, unsuitable for blogging.  Others were more common – financial, the challenge of a one-parent family, and a house that was literally crumbing around us while we fought with the insurance company.   But there were monuments in that period too.  My pilgrim Emmaus Walk; my daughter’s graduation from high school a year early and acceptance into an excellent university; my son’s unique journey through adolescence had so many monuments following periods of testing and trial it’s a story unto itself; my writings during that time became the core of my book.  And after 10 years of being a single mom God blessed me with a wonderful husband.  He took the mess of my life and used it to bless me; all I had to do was be willing to surrender my circumstances to God and He was more than able to take it from there.

Blessed indeed.   So many monuments to polish, so little time.  What a nice problem to have.

Lessons Learned from the Duke Disaster

My mother says that a seed of something good always comes from something bad.  It’s been over 24 hours now since the Duke Disaster, and I learned some things from the post I did about it.  I was reminded that writing isn’t just something I do, it’s who I am.  I’ve known I wanted to be a writer since I was 10 years old.  From the rhymey poems of a 10 yr old , the lovesick songs of a teenager, to the book I’ve written and am currently trying to get published – it’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.  I can’t not do it.  It’s the main reason I journal my prayers each day (the other is it is so cool to go back and look at how God has answered them!) and it’s what gives me delight in sending handwritten notes to people.   And God has placed me on earth in a time where technology makes it incredibly easy to reach anyone anywhere who might be interested in what I have to say.  I love it!

Instead of taking my hurt out on my beloved husband or his beloved pet, I decided to actually DO something I’ve been wanting to do for a while.  I started my blog, and with a few helps from my friend Allison within a couple of hours I had it set up and published my first post.  It’s almost ironic – what a productive and satisfying result born out of reaction to destruction.  I learned that it's not about my circumstances but my reaction to them.

Other lessons I was taught in the aftermath of Hurricane Duke:  I would much rather preserve the relationship I have in my marriage by finding a way to work through my feelings than act like a shrew.  I learned just how much sentiment one can attach to something that was given from the heart by someone who was once a big part of my life.  I learned that it’s hard for men, the ‘fixers’, when the situation is something they can’t fix.  I learned that Duke knows there is a time to respect our distance and just walk past me quietly with no greeting or snorting or nipping or tail waving.  One day soon I’ll feel like petting him again and brushing him and talking to him, but not now, and he seems to get that.   Which I appreciate; I’m not a fast transitioner when emotions are involved.  I learned that I like Pete the cat’s new food bowl better than his old one.  I learned that my daughter remembers the pink doll with the music box inside and knows why it is special to me.  I learned that our carpet is so ready for replacement that even the dog is not interested in chewing or ripping it.  I learned a new appreciation for my sister’s special way with words and helping me see things from a different perspective.  I was reminded that my family has such tender, caring hearts couched in a delightful sense of humor bound with compassion.  Why should I stay be upset about mere things when I have such wonderful people in my life?  And after looking at Christmas pictures I remembered how much my granddaughters love Duke.  Who knows, maybe one day they’ll teach me how to be a fan.

Oh, and my husband said he's decided we are getting new French doors in the living room  :)

Why I'm not a fan of Duke the dog

Two of The Three Bears were casualties – Baby Bear is missing his right leg and his left elbow is toast.  Mama Bear is completely MIA.  My beautiful Spode Christmas China butter dish lay shattered on the dining room floor, next to the thoroughly chewed collector’s Golden.  In the middle of the living room rug were several unmentionables from the laundry room.  On the stairway landing, Pete the cat was totally freaked out and very hungry.  Upstairs, the Joan Walsh Anglund doll given to me by a cherished friend was found face down on the carpet, her right arm severed, lovely pink dress in tatters, and her hat hanging on by a thread.  The companion blue doll was lucky, she came through it with only a mess of seriously disheveled hair.

There is a reason why Duke is an outside dog. 

I’m a fair shot with a pistol; I can sure as heck nail a 100 lb black lab at a few feet.  Only my love for my husband, who loves that dog almost as much as he loves me, is stopping me from grabbing his 22 and unloading a clip into that slobbery nuisance.  But the more I clean up after The Incident, the more I am thinking his days are numbered.   Possibly it is time for him to live on the family ranch – far, far away.

Those darned French doors in the living room.  For the past 7 years getting them securely locked is a problem, so my husband keeps ‘fixing’ them.  The others times Duke got in with free roam of the house netted small losses with large amounts of annoyance on my part.  But this time, he outdid himself. 

We arrived home this afternoon after a wonderful, fun and relaxing weekend at the home of our son and daughter-in-law for their 3 yr old’s birthday party.  Truly an enjoyable time.  I had steeled myself for the damage, and was most concerned about the Grandkids Room.  My son called me yesterday to report that Duke the dog had once again broken into the house and that Grandma Bear (of the Berenstain Bears) had been the worst casualty.  I could tell that he was probably downplaying the situation.  Little did I know.  He secured the door before he left, but like I said – those doors are problematic.  Duke figured out how to get in again and greeted us inside the house when we walked in.

The pictures don’t really do it justice as my husband had already kicked into high gear and started to clean up, no doubt worried about how I would react to the disaster scene.  I considered calling FEMA, but decided I needed to clean it up myself and begin the grieving process as I worked my way through the incredible mess.

Other than the Grandkids Room, I guess the worst part was the dining room where I had gathered all the Christmas things, including some next year’s gifts, onto the dining table in preparation for putting up Christmas when I got home.  Instead I ended up wading through a sea of shredded plastic bags – Duke loves plastic bags – , mangled stuffed toys, tooth-marked gift books, half-eaten CD’s (packaging too) and tiptoeing around shattered Spode china, broken crystal coasters, opened candy canes and punctured boxes.

I discovered that Duke prefers candy canes over Godiva chocolate (great, we have a dog who is not only destructive but also has poor taste), brunettes over blondes and while he is capable of destroying Hallmark keepsake ornament packaging is disinterested in the ornaments themselves.   He likes to select ladies undergarments from the laundry basket.   And strangely enough, I learned that he can read -  a small book my husband had received in his Christmas stocking was left in perfect condition on our bedroom floor.  It had selections by author John Grogan (Marley and Me) and was titled Bad Dogs Have More Fun.

I was pretty calm at first.  After all, I knew Grandma Bear was no more and had already searched the internet trying to find a replacement.  When I saw the dining room I began to get more upset, realizing the damage and the cleaning I would have to do after the long ride home.   At the top of the stairs my heart started to pound when I saw that the entrance to each room paved with trash from the small trash baskets.  But when I walked into the Grandkids Room, I couldn’t help it – I let out a small cry and began to weep.  The other stuff was just that – stuff.  But the sight of that special doll mangled, with her pantaloons halfway off and face down on the floor as if she had been violated, was the last straw.  She’s so old and unique I don’t know if I can find a  replacement, but even if I can it won’t be the same as receiving from a special friend who had owned it for years and out of love gave it to me.  Not the same at all.

By the time I got to the upstairs office, it hardly phased me that the trash basket was overturned and papers were everywhere, the catfood container was empty and the top was chewed off, the cat bowl I had already found in pieces strewn between up and downstairs, and a printer cord was partially worked over in the floor.  There was also evidence that Duke had snacked in the litter box, but unfortunately I don’t think it was enough to hurt him.

I went downstairs and calmly asked my husband for his wallet so I could go to the pet store.  No wonder Pete the cat was hungry, he hadn’t eaten in 2 days and he likely was a terrified witness to a weekend of canine gluttonous rampage.   I also informed my husband that when I had tallied the cost of the items we would have to replace I would let him.  To his credit he was busy downstairs in the living room, kitchen, laundry room and dining room sweeping and clearing debris.   Quietly.   Here’s what the weekend cost him so far:

Books                                                                                                                   $34

Grandma Bear                                                                                                       $32

1 baggie of my brother’s homemade beef jerky

2 of the Three Bears                                                                                              TBD

1 box of goldfish                                                                                                    $04

1 bag animal crackers                                                                                             $01

Spode butter dish        (eBay price)                                                                         $36

Catfood, food bowl, food container, flea medicine                                                   $47

Hallmark keepsake box                                                                                           TBD

2 new boxed tubes of toothpaste                                                                              $03

1 tape gun                                                                                                                $14

1 silver snowflake trivet                                                                                             $13

1 Peanuts character stocking stuffer                                                                           $03

1 JW Anglund doll, 13” original (similar ones on ebay start @)                                   $40

1 miniature stuffed bear                                                                                              $06

1 very unhappy wife                                                                                                 ____

            Subtotal, pending TBD items                                                                        $233

I realize that I don’t have to replace all the stuff  that was destroyed.    I’m willing to forgive the goldfish and animals crackers and beef jerky, and I’ll even throw in the toothpaste and a couple of stocking stuffers.  It’s still going to cost him over $200.   Not to mention the cost of repairing those French doors, which WILL be fixed once and for all, and soon.  Pretty hefty price tag for the privilege of owning man’s best friend.  

Over time I’ll get over the stuff and the time spent cleaning up after man’s – not woman’s – best friend.  I’ll probably even get over the doll, or maybe send her off to a doll hospital.  They have them you know; can’t imagine how much it costs to have a collector doll repaired.  None of the websites show a price list, you have to email them and get a custom quote.   But I won’t be joining Duke’s fan club any time soon, if ever.  Sure, he’s handsome, friendly, good with kids, and doesn’t bark too much and he’s extremely loyal to my husband.  But’s he’s also smelly, has a tail the size of a baseball bat, snorts on me every time I go out on the back porch, nips at my clothes, steps on my bare feet, and every chance he gets HE CHEWS ON THE STUFFED TOYS IN MY GRANDKIDS’ ROOM!

I just went downstairs to find Duke inside, stretched out on the newly cleaned rug at my husband’s feet.  I’m going to go clean my pistol.