What's Been on My Needles and Hooks

The stashbusting continues apace, as these fleece blankets for Project Linus testify. The rose-colored blanket on the bottom is a lovely, thick blanket knitted with a bulky yarn; the rest are crocheted edges on fleece remnants. The only problem now that I've been so productive recently in making scarves and edging fleeces is that I don't have very many single complete skeins left, but lots of little balls, which means there may have to be a hexagon blanket in my future. Which means I get to practice patience. Ahh, those p-words.

Patience and Perserverance

I've had a lesson this past month in these two p-words (remember my resolutions?). My little cat, who was diagnosed with cancer in November, had rebounded, and was doing very well throughout December and early January. Then, bam! Two bad weeks she was still recovering from when we went to the veterinary ophthalmologist last week and the veterinary oncologist this week. She lost both the half pound she put on after the chemotherapy started working, and a half pound more. A whole pound. That was twenty percent of her body weight. The oncologist ran bloodwork, which she had done literally one month before, when Little Miss was doing so well and before the bad times.

And her kidney values came back better. Yes, even after the weight loss, the enema, the other nastiness she had to endure. One kidney value is now in the normal range, the other, while still elevated, is 20 points lower.

This little girl, with her sad history of being abandoned when her owner moved away, mauled and nearly killed by two big brown dogs, the blood clot, the chronic renal failure, and now the cancer, is fighting so dang hard. She hasn't used up her nine lives and she's not ready to go yet. Her regular vet didn't think she'd make it through Thanksgiving. Her acupuncture vet didn't think she'd make it through Christmas.Yet here she is, fighting. Perservering.

And teaching me some valuable lessons about being patient with myself, with nature, with life. About rolling with the punches and struggling to get back up again, but getting up nonetheless. Patience to make sure she takes those 11 medicines a day. Patience to hope and pray, really hard.

I don't know how long she'll be with me, but I treasure every day with her.

Lalecka, June 8, 2007

February 5, 2012

Five for Fifty

My friend J decided last year to celebrate her 60th birthday by going to Oaxaca with a good friend of hers. She left on Friday of last week. I love Oaxaca. The city is gorgeous, the food fantastic; granted, I haven't been there since 1988, but I'm sure it's still wonderful. And I was jealous. It's ugly, but I admit it.

Which got me to thinking last year, after she decided to do this, that I have a big birthday coming up. Oh, I know, not for a few years, but still, 50 is looming up and let's face it, when time is flying by as fast as it does now (shouldn't my niece still be in diapers and not turning 20?), 50 will be here by the time I sneeze. So what should I do for my fiftieth? A coworker jumped out of plane. No way! NO WAY! I did the half-marathon for my 45th, and I don't want to tackle a full marathon. I decided that since I enjoy traveling, I wanted to go some place, some place I'd not been.

Now, gentle readers, you know I've been lucky enough to travel quite a bit abroad and have been to some out-of-the-way places, and I loved that. But I decided to stick a little closer to home for this trip. Which left quite a bit of the ol' USA open for contemplation as the Place To Go. And even though I still want to take that cruise to Hawaii with Mom, that's really a trip for her, not me. For my fiftieth, I want to go somewhere where I can do the things I love to do. After all, I'll be the birthday girl! So ever since I decided upon This Plan, I've been pondering: where to go? And I have decided upon two choices thus far.

Yosemite Park. It's gorgeous. I love to hike and be outdoors. The lodge is spectacular. The Ahwahnee Hotel even more so. But I couldn't bring the dogs. (I could substitute renting a cabin in Tahoe or somewhere for some hiking with the dogs instead, and that's definitely a sub-option still on the table.)

Cape Cod. I've always wanted to go there. I know it won't look like the Cape Cod of the Asey Mayo mysteries of the 1930s, but I can live with that. And this is once place I think I'd rather do off season, when there are less tourists, since I'd rather be hiking and birding than sunbathing. My sister and her husband have friends who moved up there a few years ago, so maybe they might ask them to look around for a nice rental that they'd stay at themselves, and that's pet friendly. And it's far more likely that someone from my family would drive up to Cape Cod to celebrate with me than for them to come out here (I'm still waiting for that to happen and it's been over 23 years, so I'm not holding my breath even though some of my friends and coworkers think my family is fictional). 

With The Big Event still several years off, I have plenty of time to save money (barring veterinary disasters) and to make reservations (I think I'd have to make them at least 2 years in advance to get the Ahwahnee at Yosemite), so starting to plan now is essential. But the biggest essential is this: how to pay for it.

I decided to start my own little modified Christmas Club for myself. Sadly, money in my savings seems to get soaked up paying off the vet bills on my credit card, so I need a separate avenue for money stashing. I was remembering how, 27 years ago, when I wanted to go on my field school abroad, I knew I couldn't ask the folks to fund it, so I put aside as much of my paycheck from the bookstore as I could, and before I knew it, I had the $600 for the airfare in a tidy little stack of bills in an envelope. So why not try that again? And the it hit me--five for fifty.

I'm going to try and set aside any five dollar bills for my vacation. Not in my savings, where it will get used to pay off a bill. And not in an envelope under my bed, either. And not every week, because frankly, I have too many unexpected expenses that arise that might preclude a weekly sum (yes, unexpected $300 scheduled maintenance for Mr. Knightley, I'm looking at you here!).

So there you have it, my Five for Fifty campaign. I'm hoping to go somewhere nice, eat a lot of wonderful food, have a lot of fun outside hiking and birding, and inside, reading and just relaxing, and seeing new places. Want to come?

Tall Boy Preens

Tall Boy in his new winter coat.

Happy Homecoming Day, D!

Was it really 2004? It was. January 29, 2004, I went to our local humane society and decided to adopt a long-haired, brown tabby. The card on her cage said she was very friendly. (Well, sort of). The card on her cage said she was very affectionate. (Weeeellll, when she wants to be affectionate, she can be, but those moments are less common than I thought they'd be.) The card on her cage said she was a Maine Coon mix. (Well, maybe.) My friend D and her daughter R stopped by while I was there to see which cat I had chosen, and I gave R the choice of two names (both characters in Jane Austen novels). So she named my cat by selecting the one she liked better. Given the ultimate personality that emerged, I'm not sure R chose the name that suits the personality.

On January 30, I went to pick up her after her spay surgery. Upon shaving her belly, the humane society had found the scar from her previous spay surgery, so someone, somewhere, had already taken care of that. All they knew of her was that she'd been found as a stray. From the way she likes to climb my pine tree, I suspect she somehow got outside and/or got lost.

It took her six weeks to get used to the dogs. By week four, I was despairing she would ever tolerate them. She hid behind the baby gate that whole first month. Then, as I watched, she took a look at my dear, darling Georgie, who was completely unfazed by the dogs and walking past them. I could almost see her little brain thinking "Well, if they don't bother that cat, they won't bother me, and I'm sick of this bedroom." Out she came. And she's never looked backed.

She's a typical tabby girl--a bit of a pistol, a little on the grumpy side (but not nearly as grumpy as the wonderful Camille was), too aware that she is far superior to every other life form in this house. I don't think she knows she's a cat. Like the Samoyeds, she doesn't like too sleep with those heat-generating humans, but a couple of times a month she will come and sleep on my head for an hour or two. She's still quite spry at age 10-ish. She has learned to come when called. She would really like to be an only pet, and if not that, than at least an only cat. She is curious, afraid of the vacuum, and chirps like a Maine Coon. She hates being combed or having her nails trimmed. She gets the crazies on a regular basis. She's my stripey girl.

Let's Go Hiking in The Nature

My AVA walking club held their annual January hike in the mountains to the west of the city yesterday (literally west of the city; it takes 20 minutes from my door to be in these mountains). DoodleBug has been doing some training 5K walks to get ready to start hiking, including practice wearing Mr. Big's backpack. So yesterday was the day to start him on his hiking career. He loved it!

T decided to bring her dog, Bertram, even though the most Bertram walks is about 3/4 of a mile on pavement (I'll be he's sore today). She mentioned the hike to her coworkers C and M, and they decided to tag along with their GoldenDoddle, Sidney. Let's just say that Tall Boy is now in love with this tall golden girl.

It warmed up pretty quickly, so I wound up carrying the backpack down (yes, insert jokes about how well-trained I am). Golden Boy was straining to always be in front; in fact, he wasn't happy unless he was in front. But we both walked the fastest of the group, so really, we both were happy when were leading.

I first joined the AVA chapter about 20 years ago, thanks to my friend Regina. Ten years ago, I started doing them with the Fluffy Dogs. They were usually the only dogs on the trail, with their red and green matching Wolf Pack backpacks (super durable backpacks--I absolutely love them and they are well worth the investment). I'd walk up to the sign-in table and people would start hollering "Hey, here come the fluffy dogs!" They were quite well known. It saddened me greatly when arthritis and older age meant they could no longer do their 5K and 10K hikes. Resuming these was one of the reasons I wanted a dog this young, but who could train a lot faster than the new pup will to walk these kinds of distances. But yesterday, we passed about 15-20 dogs, all hiking with their walking club member owners. All these well-behaved dogs out enjoying a beautiful desert day with their owners--it was wonderful to see.

Anyway, below is a a photo gallery of part of our hike in The Nature, as my friend The Gingerbread Lady calls it. Gorgeous weather in the low 60s, piercing blue sky. Tall Boy was disappointed we had to turn around at 5K, but he and I had our Click-a-Trick class that afternoon, I was Eucharistic minister at mass that night, and then straight from church to a surprise birthday party, so we couldn't dawdle. Next time, I promise, we dawdle.

And we're off! The leggy Sidney and Bertram.

All right, humans, get a move on! Golden coming through! (His backpack was admired by several passersby).

Sidney decides not to cooperate.

Shade is a premium in the desert, even in the winter.

The Fluffy Dogs and me on the exact same hike, Jan, 26, 2002--K's first birthday and six weeks after M was adopted.

Lalecka, Bright and Early in the Morning