Ten
Posted on September 7th, 2009
How is it possible that my little Katy would have been TEN years old today?
Katy Mementos
Posted on May 13th, 2009
Not only did I talk and think about Katy a lot yesterday, I spent a little time with her, too.
When our two miniature dachshunds died, years and years ago, we had them cremated and buried in the yard, with pink dogwood trees to mark the spots. (Pink because they were both girls, of course.) But when Katy died, I didn’t know if I might be moving out, or staying, or what, and wanted to be sure that I could keep her with me.
(Does this seem morbid to you? It’s not like I weep over her ashes every day, but it does kind of make me feel good knowing where they are. I can’t remember the last time I visited my grandparents at the cemetary, either, but it’s good to know that I could.)
So, she’s spent the last 8 years in the crate she arrived in (when I had her flown up from North Carolina as a puppy). Yesterday, I pulled it out of the closet for the first time in about 6 years and let her sit in the sun for a bit.
It’s really rather cozy, though, in her crate. Not only are her ashes in there, but she’s got her collar, her leash, her favorite toys. You know, to keep her from getting bored (and because I couldn’t bear to get rid of them).
There’s actually more than one collar–I’ve got the one she came with in there–bright pink and so relatively tiny that it just barely fits over Chappy’s nose.
There’s also this.
We had one of these picture frames for Jilly. It’s got room for a photo on one side, and a clay pawprint on the other. We got one for Jilly for her last Christmas, did her pawprints in January, and lost her in February 1999. (Just in the nick of time, in other words.) And her picture is lovingly displayed in our family room.
For Katy, though, I had bought another pawprint kit for her, but hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet. First I’d waited for her paws to grow up to full-size. Also, of course, I thought I had plenty of time. I never dreamed I’d lose her at 20-months old.
And while I was mourning her loss at the vet’s office, that was one of the things I mentioned.
Do you want to know how wonderful my vet was?
He told me that, if I could get him that kit quickly enough, he would see what he could do. And look what he did! Not only did he get two pawprints for me, but he imprinted her name into the clay, as well as a couple flowers. Is that not an above-and-beyond kind of thing to do, or what?
The irony is that he was the one vet of the group that Katy had never particularly liked–she used to grumble under her breath at him, but be sweet as pie to all the others. I don’t care what she thought, he definitely gets Good Vet Points in my book.
The sad part, though, is that I can’t bring myself to display this pawprint. I’m incredibly grateful to have it, but it’s kind of a sad memento. So I let Katy keep it for me, in her crate.
For the record, Chappy was definitely interested in this stuff yesterday. He sniffed at her picture, licked her bone (and seemed to think it smelled much more interesting than the one HE has). Perked his ears up when I accidentally squeaked her toy. And generally acted very respectful the whole time. He even, according to Mom, spent some time sitting next to the closet door where we keep Katy’s crate–an unusual spot for him, but maybe he wanted to spend some time with his sister.
That doesn’t mean he didn’t get bored, though. After all, it’s the dog that’s HERE that needs the tummy rubs, right?
He’s got a point!
My Own Personal Memorial Day
Posted on May 12th, 2009
May 12th is always a sober day for me, because it’s the anniversary of the day I lost Katy.
(Go back and read that old post if you don’t know the story. I’ll wait.)
Now, I know. If I hadn’t lost her 8 years ago today, I wouldn’t have had Chappy, and that’s unthinkable. And not just to me. Susan said on Ravelry last night that Harry was looking at her pictures and said, “Deb looks naked without Chappy.” A world without Chappy in it would be a darker place.
But–that’s true of Katy, too. There is no scenario that would have had both her and Chappy in my life at the same time. We’ve always been a one-dog household, and if I hadn’t lost her, I would never have even looked at the litter of puppies that Chappy came from. He would have gone to some other owner and we never would have known what we were missing.
Even if some bizarre miracle had occurred and I’d ended up with both of them, well, chances are Katy would have bossed him around. She was a protective dog and while we’d worked hard on her little possessive/temper issues (which had improved so much in her last few months they weren’t problems any more), still … I’m sure as a big sister, they would have flared up from time to time. (Because, aren’t little brothers supposed to be pests?) She wouldn’t have minded sharing her toys, but she would not have liked sharing her Mom. You know. Me.
You know that I would never give up Chappy. You know that I can’t even imagine my life without him.
But still.
Today, I miss Katy.
It’s interesting to think of all the things I do now that would be new to her. Blogging, for example. I didn’t even discover blogs to read until she’d been gone for three years, forget about writing my own.
She never saw me do real knitting, either. I’d pretty much put a hold on all my chewable, craft-type activities when she came into the house. I haven’t embroidered anything in over a decade, and have only worked on one (unfinished) quilt. I had started to think about knitting again, though, and had a trial knitting bag sitting in the family room for a while–a ball of yarn, a pair of needles, and a few rows of garter stitch–just to see what she would do.
And, spinning? I don’t know what she would have thought of spinning! Or of sheep and goats, though she would probably have been pretty calm about them, as long as they weren’t interested in her food. She saw me sit in front of the computer a lot–though I mostly wrote fiction, then. She saw me take lots of pictures, though not as many as I take now that I have blogs to feed. She helped me bake and cook, just like Chappy does, and kept me company while I read. She always greeted me at the door, and liked nothing better to nap with her chin or paw touching my leg. (Unlike Chappy who really prefers to sleep NOT touching anyone else.)
She was the first dog we ever took on vacation–to Martha’s Vineyard, of course–and she absolutely adored riding in the car. She never got carsick, although she had an unfortunate habit of swallowing things that weren’t digestible. She was also the reason I got my first camcorder, and my first digital camera. And why I still have clickers scattered around the house. I’m a huge fan of clicker-training, and can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am that I discovered a training method that meant I spent all of the 18 months I had her focusing on all the nice, beautiful, cute, GOOD things she did, rather than looking for and punishing the mistakes. I can count on one hand the number of times I actually got angry with her.
My life is certainly different without her. I’ve created an entire online identity around her little brother, and who knows what I would have been doing now if her tennis ball hadn’t bounced off that tree eight years ago. I can’t believe she would have been 10 years old this year. I can’t believe she’s been gone for eight of them. The world itself has changed so drastically. It was happier, easier back before 9/11, and the most difficult thing I had to worry about was teaching Katy not to growl at her grandparents on Monday mornings. Then, I lost her, 9/11 happened, the economy pretty much disappeared … and I got Chappy–my sunny, breezy, happy, easy little boy.
Nothing has been the same since I lost her.
But then, she changed my life by coming into it in the first place. It would be a sadder, emptier place if she had never arrived at all.
Momiversary
Posted on October 30th, 2008
So, I’ve told you the saga of getting Katy, my first Boykin Spaniel. Nine years ago today. And I’ve told you about losing her to a car when she was 20-months old. I’ve even told you about my identical twin, Susan, who only lived for a few hours.
But, I haven’t told you about this photo.
The first time we took Chappy to Martha’s Vineyard … well, it was an awful trip, really. (If such a thing is possible.) It rained for all except the last day we were there. Chappy was only 9 months old and didn’t know what to make of this “vacation” thing. He barked at every noise. Cars. People. Lights. Noises. Someone sneezing three miles away. Everything. We were wet. We were stuck in a perfectly nice room at a B&B, except, it was kind of small for three of us for long hours. There was nowhere for us to sit and eat because the room didn’t have anything resembling a table. My allergies were terrible. It was just … not great.
That last day, though? The sun finally came out. We took advantage of it to take Chappy over to Chappaquiddick to see the beach. And when Mom got her film developed she had this interesting double-exposure.
Now, of all the years she had that camera, this never happened. It took pictures and advanced the film just like it was supposed to, for thousands of pictures of family, grandkids, vacations, everything. Never any technical difficulties at all.
Which makes this picture that much more interesting.
Me and Chappy, on the beach.
Twice.
Or, is it me, Chappy … and … Katy and Susan, stopping by for a romp? Especially since the second me over there doesn’t seem to be casting much of a shadow. And the one dog doesn’t seem to be wearing a leash.
Yes, yes, I know–it’s a simple double-exposure. But what are the odds of it happening only once to a perfectly functioning camera, on the brightest, happiest moment of a vacation, so that it shows doubles of me–an identical twin–and Chappy, who really does look quite a bit like his older “sister.” Who’s to say that Susan (and Katy) didn’t take a mystical hand in the malfunction to create this picture to let us know they were there?
Coincidentally, Mom wrote about this exact same thing today. Which is pretty funny in itself, since I don’t think of this picture very often, but was planning to write this post all day. (We do this telepathy thing to each other all the time!)
Not only that, I heard the “Katy Song” for the first time in months today. Back in 1999, the day before I was supposed to pick up Katy at the airport, I heard the Savage Garden song “I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You” on the radio while driving to work and practically melted. The lyrics were perfect.
Maybe it’s intuition
but some things you just don’t question
Like in your eyes, I see my future in an instant
And there it goes,
I think I found my best friend
I know that it might sound
more than a little crazy
but I believe…I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my lifeThere’s just no rhyme or reason
Only the sense of completion
And in your eyes, I see
the missing pieces I’m searching for
I think I’ve found my way home
I know that it might sound
more than a little crazy
but I believe…
I was so anxious to get my arms around that little puppy, and the words hit exactly right, and ever since, it’s known in our family as the “Katy Song,” and it always makes me think of her. So, what are the odds it would come up today?
I guess she’s thinking about me, too.
Some random links:
- My sister sent me this one–a way to dress up a gift bottle of wine.
- Have you been watching the Presidential race? Well, even if you haven’t, check out this very cool video of Synchronized Debating. Love it.
- Speaking of voting, who else remembers Schoolhouse Rock? And it’s Suffering Suffragettes? Voting is important, people! (Seen at J’s blog.)
- And, go wish Kim a happy birthday!
Jilly
Posted on September 11th, 2008
And then, yesterday would have been Jilly’s birthday–our miniature dachshund whom we lost at 15 years old in February 2001. (To give you an idea? That little girl in Mom’s arms? My now-19-year old niece who’s taller than all of us.)
(Re)Organization
Posted on September 7th, 2008
So, the negative about pulling out so many old, favorite knitting books to write reviews about them? My already-overflowing bookcase has started disintegrating into chaos. Because it’s overflowing to begin with, I’ve got horizontal piles of books, and piles of books balanced on the top … not to mention the knitting magazines overflowing their holders. The extra bags of yarn that have been piled there haven’t helped matters, either.
Then, I’d pull books out, and somehow, they would lose their places and there wouldn’t be room to put them back … As I say, chaos.
So–an hour or so of work later, at least I’ve got everything more or less tidy. The yarn is organized and all in the appropriate bins at the top of the closet and, for the moment at least, the books mostly all fit. (Um, we’ll see how long that lasts!)
Also? Today would have been Katy’s birthday. I know, I tell you this every year, but for some reason, I’m really missing her today. Or at least, right NOW. So, here are some (blurry) photos-of-photos of her because, darn it, she was so beautiful….
Button Band
Posted on May 12th, 2008
A progress shot of my button band. I’m doing a double-knit band, and think it looks just fabulous. Hefty enough that it’s not curling at all, it looks smooth and seamless. Just lovely. Very pleased. This, obviously, is the first one and it’s only about half done, but … very pleased indeed.
As always, since it’s May 12th, I have to mention Katy, my first Boykin Spaniel. She would have been 7 years old today. The thought that she’s not here still breaks my heart, even though, really, if she hadn’t, er, stepped aside, I wouldn’t have Chappy. Which is unthinkable, of course. But, still. I miss her, anyway. (sniffle)
Speaking of missing, I got a e-mail from my best-friend today who told me she’s moving from the San Francisco area to L.A. to attend the A.F.I. Conservatory. Exciting news, huh? The interesting part is that she needs to find housing … Um, does anybody in the L.A. area have any recommendations? The school is near Griffith Park, if that means anything (grin), and she’s planning on moving in July.
On the plus side, the tv show Eli Stone has been renewed for another year. Woo hoo! I enjoyed that show so much when it came in as a mid-season replacement and am so happy to hear it will be back. In fact, surprisingly, all the shows that I enjoyed so much last year are coming back–that pretty much never happens.
And–because I know you desperately want to see more pictures–here are some more that I took at my sister’s house on Saturday.
May 5th
Posted on May 5th, 2008
Look at what I found when I came home today. Two VHS tapes of John Adams, thanks to Jessalu. (No, really, thank you, Jess!) And, of course, she was so concerned about their safety, that she padded the box with a little yarn. Smart thinking, huh?
(Really, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who’s considered this an excellent–and fun–use of all that novelty yarn. To pull the skeins apart and use it to stuff the corners of boxes. Sure, it would tangle, but who wants to knit with that much novelty yarn?) (And, please, if you would, don’t leave me nasty comments. I just don’t happen to like it myself, is all.)
Anyway, now I’m all excited about watching John. I just have to find a good night to start–one where Mom will be sufficiently awake and interested (grin). I mean, why rush through a tasty treat?? It’s just so nice to have it!
It’s May 5th, as you no doubt already know, and that means it’s the anniversary of the day we lost Muppy. She was our very first dog and died on the day she turned 5 1/2, poor thing. She was a miniature wire-haired dachshund with the prettiest colors in her fur and we are all forever grateful that we took her along to the photographer when we had a family portrait done around 1982 because she pre-dated the good family cameras, and this is by far the best photo we have of her.
It’s a milestone, though, because it was 25 years ago today that she died. A quarter of a century–how is that possible? I remember so many things about that day so clearly, including the silly giggling when I told my best friend on the bus on the way to school. I knew she would think it was a joke, and her laugh was so infectious that I was laughing in self-defense as I told her the awful news. (And, no, she did not laugh. In fact, she cried.) Then, in speech class, my teacher started the class by griping about what an awful morning she’d had–little, normal things like running late, needing gas for the car–then, to change the subject, she asked me how my day was going. “My dog died this morning.” Lordy, she felt just terrible! My father didn’t go to work that day, either–which was one of the first times ever that that happened–and when I got home from work, all the drapes and shades were drawn in the house. It was just an awful, awful day, but at the same time, a really beautiful Spring day, much like today.
After she died, we had her cremated (as the town required), and then buried her in the backyard with a dogwood tree. A pink one (because she was a girl.) It’s looking quite lovely right now, too.
The Other Birthday Girl
Posted on September 10th, 2007
On Friday, I showed you some Katy pictures but today would have been Jilly’s birthday, so . . . fair’s fair, right? Jilly was a miniature-dachshund and she would have been, let’s see, 24? We got her when she was 8 months old, when I was still in high school, and we lost her in February 1999, when she was 15. Saying good-bye to her wasn’t easy, either, but at least she’d had a long, full life . . .
Yeah, we all loved her an awful lot, too….
Birthday Girl
Posted on September 7th, 2007
Because today would have been Katy’s 8th birthday.
Lord, how I miss that little girl…. I mean, look at those gorgeous, amber eyes….
Okay, I need to go hug Chappy now….
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The Great Campaign
Posted on February 23rd, 2007
So, let me tell you about this happy little Golden.
Back in 1999, we lost our 15-year old miniature dachshund–an event that was incredibly sad, but not wholly unexpected, since she lived a long, full doggy life. But, see, within a couple of months, I was obsessing on the idea of getting a new dog. I was buying and reading books on dog training. Looking at cute pictures. Pouncing on nice dogs in the park. Obsessing.
Only–and I’ve told this story before–Mom swore that we would NOT be getting any more dogs. And thus began my campaign–the Campaign to Get a Dog. I still say that I felt like I was 12 again, begging Mommy and Daddy for a puppy. I talked about dogs. I read about dogs. I researched dog breeds, and my dog-book-library started to grow.
This picture–of that happy, doggy face was part of the campaign. I knew that he was there to welcome the new dog, but I told Mom that he would just be there to welcome people to our house. (Yeah, like she bought that excuse.) Of course, this friendly little dog wasn’t the winning move in my campaign. No, that was when I told Mom that, if I GOT a dog, I’d name her Katama, and we could call her Katy. If you don’t know, Katama is the South Beach area of Martha’s Vineyard, and the family joke is that Mom can’t resist anything from Martha’s Vineyard. It worked, anyway, because in October, my little Katy came to join the family.
I’m sure, though, that this little fellow definitely helped. Who could resist such a happy face?
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Why?
Posted on December 3rd, 2006
Yikes! Twelve loaves of unbaked stollen! (Eight normal-sized, four mini-loaves.) Talk about scary . . . Halloween’s got nothing on Stollen Day at the Chappy household for frightening….
Years. As in, my car is five years old today. Hard to believe it’s gone that quickly. And oddly enough, I’m usually getting “itchy” about a new car after 4-5 years, but I’m still thoroughly enjoying this one. I could wish for a slightly bigger trunk, perhaps, or some more legroom for back-seat passengers, but . . . I LIKE my car. And as a special birthday treat? Since Dad will be away for the next few days, she gets to sleep in the garage. Woohoo!
Yule. The Christmas season is definitely here.
Yarn. Of course. The last skein of my “raspberry” yarn, drip-drying in the shower. This yarn came out so nicely . . . I’m really pleased with it.
More Yarn. All handspun. In fact, this IS all my handspun–or at least, all that I haven’t given away or knitted into something else. That’s three skeins of the Raspberry there in the front–good representation of the color, too . . .
Yippee!! A row of baked Stollens. I’m DONE for another year!
Yawn! Of course, after all that baking and agonizing, we’re very tired, now….
…. Makes me want to go to my Yellow bedroom and go to sleep….
And, wow, I can’t believe there’s only one more letter to go. I have SO enjoyed this ABC-along this year! But, I can’t wait for Z . . . I know exactly what I’m doing for that one!
Oh–and I almost forgot! I had wanted to add one more “Y” but forgot to dig through the pictures looking for one . . .
Yellow Eyes. My dearly departed Katy had the most amazing amber yellow eyes . . . so beautiful! (Chappy’s eyes are more golden-brown, but Katy? They were actually green when I brought her home at 7 weeks, and then they turned into this gorgeous, topaz color. In fact, they were the inspiration for my bedroom color . . . just loved that.
Not Idle
Posted on October 30th, 2006
Despite my cold, I haven’t been idle. I actually did some knitting last night. Not only that, I spun, too! How’s that for somebody who’s not feeling like herself?
This is the back of my sweater, with the cable panel going up the center back. That’s one complete repeat and the first couple of rows of the next one. I know it’s not the best picture, but, what do you want from flash photography at 8:00 at night? As the sweater grows, I promise I’ll get a better-resolution picture for you, so you can really see the cable. It’s lovely and intricate, which I adore. The more inter-woven a cable is, the more I like it.
Now, tonight, Chappy and I are sitting in our room, instead of watchng television downstairs with Mom. She’s feeling pretty horrible–the post-nasal drip of a cold draining into her stomach makes her nauseated so . . . she’s in her bedroom tonight. Since that’s where Dad usually is, he’s down in the family room and Chappy and I are in our room. Except, he doesn’t want to be–it’s too early! So, he’s been hanging out over by the door a lot. At this precise moment, he’s chewing on his nylabone, so he’s starting to relax.
Now, I’m going to curl up on my chair and pull out my knitting . . . although it’s been a long, long time since I sat in my bedroom and knitted!
My cold, for the record, is definitely here, but not horrible. I was shivering when I came upstairs, pulled out an extra warm wool shawl, put on my socks, and am feeling better, at least in that way. At least my nose isn’t quite as drippy as it was before. Stupid cold….
Oh, and today is the 7th anniversary of bringing Katy home . . . I can’t believe that went so fast. She’s been gone 5 years, but I still miss her….
So-So Sunday
Posted on September 10th, 2006
Here’s a look at my knitted-bag-to-be. This is two strands of Cascade 220, knitted together, on US size 10.5 needles, which feel absolutely HUGE. I put the bobbin of singles in the picture as a size-reference, but I must say, those colors look pretty fabulous together, don’t they? Although, really, the brown in the knitting isn’t quite as coppery as it looks in the photo.
I had planned–well, hoped–to get the rest of my third bobbin of singles spun up today, but that didn’t happen, because I didn’t feel well enough to sit and treadle this afternoon.
Last night, I colored my hair (very necessary), and while working the dye into the back, I got a face-full of dye fumes, which triggered . . . not exactly an asthma attack, but something like. I’ve had a bit of a cough for the last week or so–not nearly as bad as last month, when Chappy was coughing, too–but kind of there. Well, last night, after I did my hair . . . wheezing and whistling.
I couldn’t get to sleep until after I’d used my inhaler (leftover from my lung infection last March), because my lungs were whistling with every breath . . . and I slept fine about 5:15 this morning, when that same noise woke me up. And again around 6:15. And 7:15 . . . and I was just more or less short of breath all morning. (And yes, Norma, I took some Elderberry syrup.) We took Chappy out for a walk this morning, but it was a short, just around the block one.
Of course, instead of being really smart, I then did what I’d wanted to do today–I cleaned my closet. Pulled out my craft stuff, the extra parts to my spinning wheel, books, yarn . . . I vacuumed around inside the closet (it’s amazing the amount of fur that gets in there). Reshuffled things to make better room for my knitting books. Stuff like that. Surprisingly, my lungs were better after that.
But anyway, that was my day. It would have been a lovely day for a good, long walk, but that didn’t happen. I planned on doing some baking. That didn’t happen. I should have cleaned my bedroom, but that didn’t happen, either. (Ironic, I know, that I vacuumed my closet, but not the rug I sit on every night while I type.) And I really wanted to spin, but . . .well, maybe after I finish this post.
Today would also have been Jilly’s birthday. She would have been 23 (yes, unlikely, I know.) Here’s a picture of the two of us at work however many years ago this was. Our office had a “Stuffed Animal Day,” where people brought in stuffed toys. Well, I brought in Jilly, because “She was the most stuffed animal I knew.” Mom came and picked her up around 10:30, but for a little while, we worked together. (Please note that Jilly brought HER stuffed animal. A little teddy bear named Chewbone.)
Oh–and let me ask those of you who embroider. My Mom is making a wedding gift for some friends and wants to put their names at the bottom. We need an alphabet about 5 stitches tall and relatively narrow, to spell out their names–does anyone have a good one we could use to chart them?
Pause
Posted on September 7th, 2006
Just a couple things.
I finished the first of my two socks. I’d show you more, but I actually have Plans for this pattern, so a peek at the toe is all you’re going to get. Yes, it’s a contrasting color. I even, in fact, used reinforcing thread to give it extra strength (ooh la la!). The main yarn is Cherry Tree Hill Supersock in “Indian Summer,” which was gifted to me by Shelley back in April. The contrast? Some Koigu that I had in the closet. I thought the colors looked really well together.
Meanwhile, I’m trudging along on my Peacock Stole Part Two . . . I’ve been working for months and I’m only on row 87 out of, what, 250? As much as I love this pattern, and love the idea of making a rectangular version of the triangular original . . . I’m ready to be done with this now . . . and yet, there’s no end in sight!
Oh! And the roving I showed the other day, that I said I was disappointed in? Teyani (about whose customer service I really had no doubts) offered to exchange it for a ‘darker’ batch, which is great. Pretty though it is, I do so hate being disappointed, don’t you?
Did any of you see this article in Publisher’s Weekly, about the slowing down of the knitting trend? (Huh. Obviously the writer doesn’t know any of us.) Although, actually, I thought it was a fair, well-balanced article, focusing on the slow-down in knitting-book purchases in the last year. Well, sure . . . there just aren’t enough really good, new knitting books. I mean, there have been some great ones this year (the Harlot’s, Wendy’s, Mason-Dixon . . . and I’m eagerly awaiting Eunny’s), but once you have a reasonable knitting library, there’s only so much to buy. (Some, of course, would say that my knitting library is UNreasonable, but, what do they know?)
Also, on an important-to-me note, today would have been Katy’s birthday. She would have been seven today. I could really use a cupcake, too. Our favorite nickname for her was “Katycakes” and for some reason, it just seems like there should be cake today . . .
Is it strange that I still miss her so much? Lord, look at those eyes she had! Amazing, really–same breed as Chappy, and yet her face looked so different. Not quite so rounded, she had that “triangle” of fur down her nose. She kept her hair neat–no topknot on the top of her head. Fewer curls than Chappy. Oh, she was so pretty . . .
But don’t tell Chappy I said so. He gets just a little jealous when I talk about her….
K is for Katama
Posted on May 21st, 2006
It just seemed like the right “K”–considering how we were just there a few days ago. Katama. One of my favorite spots on Martha’s Vineyard, and the origin for my Katy’s name. So, first, here, and to play fair–a road sign pointing not only toward Katama, but also to Chappaquiddick (can’t play favorites with the “kids,” right?)
Of course, once you’ve started driving toward Katama, eventually you’ll come to Katama Road.
Not to mention passing by Katama Airfield. From here, you can take bi-plane tours of the island–something I’ve never done, but which sounds fun, don’t you think? Although, considering how Chappy gets carsick, I somehow don’t think he’d get along with a biplane….
But then you’ll come to the end of the road, and a line of sand dunes . . .
And, there you are, at South Beach. By far my favorite beach on the island . . . or, really, anywhere. Pure sand, with few rocks or shells.
It’s also got the roughest surf on the island–since South Beach, of course, there’s basically nothing south of South Beach but the Atlantic Ocean. I mean, literally, for thousands of miles. The whole, eastern coast of the U.S. slopes away toward the the southwest from New England, and so there is nothing shielding the south shore of the island from the waves and wind of the ocean except the occasional dolphin or whale.
Not that that makes it an unappealing place to be. It’s a great place to visit in the summer. I took this picture in June, 2001.
It was also the Katama ferry that Mom, Chappy and I sailed over on last week. (Chappy, of course, has his own ferry, though it’s called the OnTime III.)
And, of course, you can find the name Katama all over. (Note how it’s right next to the Chappy rock. Which is just as well, as Chappy’s a little jealous of his big sister.)
The original Katama, of course, was an Indian Princess.
Although, of course, my favorite Katama was my Katy. But you knew that already, didn’t you?
(Did you notice how I restrained myself, too, from using Knitting? I figured it was bound to come up once or twice, and I wanted to be different!)
J is NOT for Jealous
Posted on May 7th, 2006
Because, really, why should it be?
Sure, hundreds of knitters, spinners, and bloggers were in Maryland this weekend, but we had a (mostly) fun weekend right here at home.
First, we met Risa and the twins (bad picture, sorry) at the park yesterday morning. (She wrote a great description of the day, including some very flattering comments about Mom and Chappy.) Except for the couple descents into tears (by the twins), it was a really nice day, despite the spritzes of rain on the drive over. Or the little boy who implied he was better than Chappy when he asked how old he was and I said he’d be five in July, and the little boy said, “Well, I’m ALREADY five.” Like it was an accomplishment he doubted my lovely dog could attain . . . brat (grin).
Last night, though, around 9:00, Chappy was very dramatically sick–pretty much everything he’d eaten all day came up all over the family room rug. We were worried, too, because when he first got up, we thought there was something wrong with his leg, he was walking so oddly and couldn’t manage the jump up onto the ottoman. He was also drooling, though, and when he threw up the first, um, batch, we understood–he had stomach cramps. But, in all the years we’ve had dogs and seen them get sick (usually, yes, on the rug), we’ve never seen one visibly suffering from stomach cramps. The excessive drool was unusual, too. Dogs usually just walk into or a corner, or stop where they are, heave a little, throw up, and go about their business. It was unusual to see Chappy actually being queasy. (Well, he used to get carsick as a puppy, and so yes, we’ve seen him queasy, but honest, the house was not moving at all!) After about 20 minutes, though, the drool dried up and he was feeling well enough to jump up onto the ottoman and sleep. He was fine (but sleeping) the rest of the night, and today, he’s entirely himself and (without wanting to get too graphic) his digestive system seems to be functioning normally. I just wish I knew what had caused that . . .
Anyway, today has been a lovely Sunday–beautiful weather. We had a nice, long, leisurely walk, I did some cleaning, some laundry, some reading. I actually got 10 rows done on my Celtic Dreams sweater and am well into the “skirt” section of the pattern, and am now pretty sure I’ll have the body done before vacation starts next week. (Barring unexpected emergencies that would cut into my knitting time.) This is a relief because it’s getting large and bulky and kind of a pain to turn as the rows move along and my luggage is going to be heavy enough. And the “worst” part is still to come. The one negative about doing the sweater-in-one-piece thing is, really, doing the sleeves while the whole rest of the (heavy) sweater sits in your lap, adding bulk, and making it difficult to knit at the height/angle which you prefer. But since it’s counteracted by few finishing details and no seams . . . well worth it.
While I was sitting with my knitting, I tried listening to some music on my new MP3 player. The music of choice? The soundtrack to Chess, which I haven’t heard in years. Not the soundtrack from the London version, or the one from the horrible Broadway version. No. It must be the original concept album. Do you remember it? It pre-dated the stage productions, and spun-off the single “One Night in Bangkok.” My college roommate my Sophomore year had a bootleg copy of it and played it over and over . . . at the beginning of the year, I hated it, but by the end, I liked it so much, I had to buy a copy for myself. And then when I spent a semester in London my Junior year (1987), I got to see it in the theater. I dragged a fellow student with me, got to sit in box seats right by the stage (bless those last-minute student-ticket discounts!), and when we left through our private exit that let out right by the stage door–got to see Tommy Korberg as he left and got on his motorcycle. (I’m still kicking myself for being too “cool” to ask for an autograph.)
It’s a dated musical, for sure–the music is very “electronic,” written by Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, formerly of ABBA, with lyrics by Tim Rice. And of course, it focuses on a chess tournament between an American and a Soviet player, with huge, heavy, Cold War implications. But, the singing is fabulous. The song “Nobody’s Side” as sung by Elaine Paige was practically my anthem when I had my miserable 21st birthday in Germany all by myself. The duet “I Know Him So Well” is just beautiful, as is the goose-bump-raising “You and I” which ends the album. And, really, how can you help but love a song that manages to tell the entire history of the game of chess in multi-part harmony? So long as you ignore the antiquated politics . . . it’s great. And the best part? That serious, heavy, electric rhythm makes it marvelous for knitting.
Of course, since I’m not using “jealous,” you need a “J” for this post, so here you go–my two favorites Js. Joan and Jilly. It’s an old picture (Jilly has been gone for six years now), but it’s one of the few good ones of both of them. (Mom, unfortunately, wore black a lot while Jilly was alive, and so in most of their pictures together, all you can see of Jilly is her eyes.)
This one, though, was taken by a professional. Mom had taken Jilly to the photographer so we could get a really good picture of her, but she (Jilly) was such a nervous, skittery little girl, she wouldn’t sit still. At all. Roger-the-photographer tried everything for about half an hour, and then said, “I’m going to leave the room for five minutes, and maybe she’ll relax a little.” When he came back, Mom was sitting with Jill in her lap, and he said, “That’s the picture I’m going to take.” Mom immediately protested, “But, my hair! My makeup! I’m not prepared!” But he took the picture anyway, and, well, Dad got a really nice Christmas present that year (grin).
And, apropos of nothing, while I was browsing through the photo album, I came across this one from Christmas 1997, when I was teaching my 8 year-old niece to knit. You know, the niece who right now is looking at colleges… (And, we won’t discuss how horrible my hair looked . . . this was back when I brushed it and caused frizz instead of curls because I didn’t know any better.)
Oh, and by the way, I’m officially 39 1/2 years old, as of yesterday. I guess this means I really am in my late thirties, huh?
Firsts
Posted on November 18th, 2005
Our first dog, Mustard. (Because she was a hot dog–we were children when we named her, you understand. Really, she went by “Muppy.”)
My first spinning. (Well, there was one, lumpy glob of wool before this one, but this is the first that actualy counted.)
First Grade
My first book–as in the manuscript of. Obviously, I’d read countless books before I ever got to this point, but unfortunately have read countless since without getting it any further than this point, poor thing.
My first laptop computer. (I suppose it did, technically, fit on one’s lap, but it weighed so much, really, why bother? It’s a monstrosity, circa 1989. I’d give you the tech specs, but really, you’d just laugh. Hey, I was just excited that it had a hard-drive.)
My first sweater . . . really! A Lopi pattern, in Lopi wool, using both hands for color-work and knitted on circular needles. The whole thing was a revelation and took me 10 days. Count ‘em. TEN days.
My first “real” ring, my birthstone.
My first bedroom. (Thankfully, only two walls were wall-papered. It WAS the 70s, you know.)
My first day of school. Luckily, Mom snapped this picture before the bus arrived–once it did, the only shot she got was my ankle in its purple sock as I ran onto the bus.
My first pair of glasses. (Needed shortly after finishing that first sweater. A coincidence??)
My first Christmas. Note my very excited big sister sitting in the background. I love that shot of her. (Oh, and may I introduce you to my Grandfather?)
Which brings me to another first for the day. First Christmas songs on the radio. I’ve been hearing them in the stores for a couple weeks now, but for the last 3/4 of an hour, they’ve been playing nothing but Christmas music on the radio. Some of them are songs I like quite a bit, and it has been a while since I heard them, but . . . it’s not even Thanksgiving yet! I’m sorry, that’s just wrong. (Added: Did you know there is a Society for the Preservation of Thanksgivng that addresses just this sort of thing? See Phyllis‘ blog entry for today.)
But hey, assembling all those “first” photos was fun. You should try it. Consider it a meme from me to you. And before you go, here’s one more for you
First male dog in the family!
The Katy Saga: Oct 30, 1999
Posted on October 30th, 2005
Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted a dog very, very badly. Even though she was 32 years old, she begged and begged her Mom to let her have a puppy, but her Mom said, “No. We’ve had dogs for the last 21 years and I’m tired of taking care of them.”
“But, Mom,” the girl cried, “I’d take care of her myself! She’d be your, your . . . grandpuppy! And we could name her Katama, like the beach on Martha’s Vineyard (you know how you love anything from Martha’s Vineyard), but we could call her Katy.”
It took months, but Mom finally weakened, only insisting that the dog not be a miniature dachshund, like they’d had before. “No dog,” she’d been saying for months, “But absolutely not a dachshund.” So the girl took the second part for truth and started to look for another dog breed to love. Some were too big; some were too small. Some were too active; some were too sickly. Some were too cutesy; some were too ugly. She despaired of ever finding the perfect breed. Then one day, while scrolling through a list of dog breeds, like magic, there was one that had her name on it. A Boykin Spaniel. It was perfect. Medium-sized, smart, friendly, active but not too active–and even curly brown hair, just like her own. After that, she knew she’d won her Mom over and now it was just a matter of finding the perfect dog.
First, she looked for a rescue dog, figuring that a dog that needed a new home as much as she needed a dog would be just the right match. But that didn’t work–there is only one Boykin Spaniel rescue organization in the country, and there was never a dog of the right age or the right personality at the right time for the girl’s needs. So, she decided to start looking for a puppy. This was harder because so many Boykins come from the south and our girl lived in New Jersey, but one day in September, she called the Boykin Spaniel Society to ask if they knew of any litters that were available. They listed five, and one one of them, the girl’s hair stood up–a litter of girl puppies from Madison, NC. That was the one!
She called the breeder–the very first person to ask about one of Summer’s puppies–and they arranged that she would get a puppy–the best, picked out by him–who would be (gulp) flown up to NJ as soon as she was old enough. Say, October 29th, when the puppies are exactly 7 weeks old. Excited, the girl bought and read dozens of books on dogs, puppies, clicker training, and then she bought things like chew toys and crates and treats–everything her puppy would need. On October 27th, she overnighted the check to pay for her puppy and started planning her Friday–she would go to work for a few hours, have lunch at the office Halloween party, and then leave early to go to the airport to pick up her precious little bundle of fur.
But [dramatic music here] evil forces had gathered, and had prevented her check from being delivered on time! The breeder called her on Thursday night, apologetic but firm that he would not ship the puppy without having received the money. The girl understood but was distraught (an understatement, really). She tried tracking the package, calling the delivery company, even trying to find another way to get the money to the man, but no. He wouldn’t budge. After little sleep, she went to work the next day, despondent at the thought that she wouldn’t get her Katy that day after all. All her dreams of a puppy seemed far from fulfillment, just because of the evil shipping company. (Okay, maybe not evil; just misguided.)
Around lunchtime, though, things got better. Not only was there food and wacky co-workers dressed in distracting costumes, but there was word from the breeder–the check had come! Huzzah! He made plans that he would bring Katy to the local airport at 6:00 the next morning (which meant leaving his own house about 5:00–he really did feel badly about the whole thing), where she would catch a connecting flight to Charlotte, which would then fly to Newark’s Liberty Airport. The girl had paid extra for “counter to counter” delivery of her puppy (no cargo terminal for her precious ball of fur!), and so the next morning, she and her Mom–who had sworn she didn’t even want to be around when the puppy came–were at the airport luggage claim, singing the chorus to the K-K-K-Katy Stammer Song, anxiously waiting the big Arrival.
Then, a man walked by with a little, yellow carrier. Could it be? The girl and her mom followed him to the office and peered at the crate. There, huddled in the back, was a scared, little, brown puppy. The girl leaned forward and said, “Hi, Katy. Hi, Sweetie,” while her Mom melted into a big, gushy puddle behind her. After a few moments, the girl opened the crate door to reach in to pet the puppy, who licked her fingers, but wasn’t willing to come forward yet. (It had been a pretty scary morning so far, you must admit–for the first time away from her mother, she’d been on two airline flights, all alone, in a cargo hold. Pretty traumatic for a puppy only 7 weeks old.) The girl signed the paperwork, and then picked up the crate to carry it, carefully, out to the car.
Once at the car, she opened the crate door again and dragged the reluctant puppy out to be cuddled and reassured. Then there was a blinding flash of light….
On the drive home, the puppy sat very, very still, moving nothing but her head, as if she was still afraid of her new surroundings, the new people (who no doubt sounded pretty funny to her southern ears). But little by little, she started to relax. She accepted a crumb of liver biscotti. She wagged her tail. She started to squirm just a little to explore.
The girl was very happy. She had her puppy in her arms, all was right with the world. And then, they were home.
Katy.
Born September 7, 1999. Arrived October 30, 1999. Died May 7, 2001.
. . . . Don’t miss our next, exciting installment, where Katy meets the many strange people of New Jersey (ghosts! ghouls! goblins!) in “Katy’s First Halloween!” (“You were right FurMom, Yankees ARE strange!”)
Quite a Satisfactory Saturday
Posted on September 10th, 2005
This has really been a lovely day (another one). Perfect weather, again, about which I’m still feeling obscurely guilty. But, what can you do?
Mom and I took Chappy (aka Drool-Face) to the park today. He’s been asking to go all week. (“Park! Park! Park park park!“) Then, he was so excited to be there, he just drooled . . . and then covered himself in drool every time he shook his head.
This habit of his, I’ll tell you, came as quite a shock to me in the beginning. None of our other dogs ever drooled this much. Don’t even get me started on the amount of drool he used to emit in the car . . . he used to get carsick . . . and, well . . . rivers. But that, at least, had a reason. So does a mouth-watering reaction to food. But drool just out of sheer excitement at being at the park? Who knew? I try to carry paper towels with me for this kind of thing . . . I don’t like drooly kids (I accept that it happens, but that’s what bibs are for, and you at least try to stay on top of it), and I don’t want my dog covered with it either. Naturally, though, I always forget to actually bring the towel with me . . . it’s usually back in the car, and so Chappy happily meanders through the park, looking like, well, this.
After our lovely (if wet) walk through the park, we went to Wightman Farms for some apples.
And some pie. (They have really good home-style pies).
And, oh yeah, some doughnuts, which Mom particularly loves.
Unfortunately, it’s still a little early in the season for my favorite apples (Macouns and Honeycrisps), but I did get some Ginger Golds, so I’m happy. I love really good, really crisp apples in the fall.
And you should have seen all the pumpkins they had already. I mean it’s only September 10th. (I bet you didn’t know they grew with faces here in New Jersey.)
After Wightmans, I told Mom and Chappy I wanted to make one stop–Barnes & Noble, to see if they had Stephanie’s bookbookbook2. I looked on the shelf, and didn’t see it, but since somebody had left her a Comment about finding a copy yesterday, I asked. (Something I almost never do in bookstores, since I’m usually pretty good at finding what I need.) They had two copies in stock . . . but couldn’t find either of them. The fellow helping looked, and asked around, in case somebody had shelved them in the wrong place, but . . . nope. Nowhere to be found. I mean, if they hadn’t had the books at all yet, well, fine, but they had them in the inventory. Sheesh. So . . . no extra yarn-harlot-ness for me this weekend. Disappointing!
Now, you hear me talk about Chappy all the time. (All the time, I know.) You even hear me mention my dear, departed Katy, his predecessor.
But you rarely ever hear me talk about the dogs we had before. Partly because they were the family’s dogs, not my dogs. There were two of them, both miniature dachshunds–Muppy, who we got when I was 11, and Jilly, who lived to be almost 15 and a half. Today would have been her 21st birthday.
We got her when I was 17 and she was 8 months old, about a year after we lost Muppy. We were actually going to get a puppy, but her breeder tricked us–she let us meet Jilly first, before we ever saw the litter of puppies. (Sneaky!) By the time we made it into the next room, Jilly had worked her wiles. A good thing for her, too, since the first full day we had her, when Dad and Patty went to work and I headed off to school, my mother almost had a break down, Jilly reminded her so much of Muppy. (She really didn’t want another dog, I might add, but Dad and I ganged up on her.) I got home from school and said, “How’s the puppy??” and Mom almost burst into tears . . . she went upstairs and shut the door (rare, rare thing), and I spent the afternoon running up and down the stairs from my mother, who wanted nothing to do with the dog, and poor Jilly who was still so confused and scared and uncertain . . . it wasn’t a good day. But then, a day or so later, Mom was vacuuming and realized she didn’t know where Jilly was . . . the poor thing had been so terrified at the vacuum, she squeezed herself behind the toilet and just shook . . . Mom felt so terrible, and cuddled her to calm her down, and I think that pretty much did it. After that first week, Mom loved her as much as the rest of us did . . . it was just getting through the first week that was hard!
What can I tell you about Jilly? She was sweet and lovable, of course, but a little neurotic at times. She hated the car, because she was convinced that it would always go to the vet. She went more often than she should have–generally healthy, but periodontal disease (lots of tooth extractions). She ate baby food for almost her entire life–Cheese & Macaroni was her favorite flavor. She thought she was a little girl, or at least acted as if she did. She loved to get dressed up–if we tied a bow around her neck (as in this photo, taken on my sister’s wedding day), she’d preen with it . . . right until it started tickling her ears. She wore perfume–would roll on the carpet whenever any of us would spritz ourselves with it. She loved to flowers–never ate them, but would sniff every, single one of a bouquet. She loved dolls–we could have our dolls “pet” her and she would lean in to the pets as if they were just really small humans . . . but stuffed animals, she would treat like, well, animals. She loved tea–preferably with milk, no sugar–and I always gave her the last mouthful when I had a mug. (Her nose was perfectly shaped for reaching down to the bottom of the cup.) She did bark quite a lot, being a dachshund, but she was such a sweetie to have around. I feel guilty sometimes that I don’t think about her as much since my Boykin Spaniels have come into my life, but that doesn’t mean I love her any the less!
Anyway, in honor of Jilly, today’s links for Katrina Aid are for the pets: Noah’s Wish, ASPCA, the Humane Society.
Sixth
Posted on September 7th, 2005
I just thought I’d mention . . . today would have been Katy’s sixth birthday.
It’s a little weird because, of course, six is such a young age for a dog, and yet she’s been gone four years . . . and so for her, it sounds old.
She’ll always be a puppy to me.
Katy
September 7, 1999 – May 12, 2001
Katysmom
Posted on May 12th, 2005
Had things gone differently four years ago today, chances are the blog you’re reading would have been called “Katy’s Mom” instead of Chappy’s.
(Stop reading here if you don’t care about dogs or pets or too much sentiment; you’ll just be bored. It’s okay. Just come back tomorrow, when there’ll be knitting content again. Otherwise, brace yourself for some bittersweet nostalgia, and read on!)
That was the day–May 12, 2001–I threw her tennis ball, and it bounced off a tree (the only one in our entire yard) and into the street, right in front of a car that I didn’t see until it was too late. Katy adored chasing her ball and, when she did, focused only on that. The week before, her shoulder collided with that same tree as she chased the ball past; a month or so earlier, she went head-first, full-speed into a bush, without even a pause, just because that’s where her tennis ball went.
May I gush about her for a few minutes? She was my first dog. Not the family’s first, mind you, but mine. We got her nine months after we lost our miniature dachshund, Jilly, who we’d had since I was 17. I still joke that it was like being 12 again, trying to convince my Mommy to let me have a dog. Her name was just one of my ploys–her full name was Katama, the South Beach section of Martha’s Vineyard. (The joke was that my mother can’t say no to anything connected to M.V.)
She was born September 7, 1999, and very bravely flew up alone from North Carolina to New Jersey on her very first day away from her mother and siblings. I think she was pretty terrified about the whole experience, too, but she relaxed in my lap in the car. (That drive being the sole exception to the puppy-safely-seatbelted-in-the-back rule–that day, comfort and warmth were far more important than the risk of an accident.)
She was smart–she was the first of our dogs we ever trained to sit, lie down, etcetera. In fact, she had “sit” down cold by the third day I had her. (I tell you, clicker training is just wonderful!). She also shook hands, twirled in a circle, and curtseyed (a play bow). She went to school and thus became the first family dog with a diploma. She was also the first we ever took on vacation–to, you guessed, it Martha’s Vineyard–and she was also the first dog my sister ever welcomed into her house.
We had a lot in common–we looked rather alike, with wavy, dark brown hair–reasonably smart, funny, but we both liked things the way we like them and don’t like to be bothered when we’re trying to relax. In fact, that brings me to Mondays. Katy was a cranky little girl on Monday mornings, when I headed back to work after a weekend of togetherness. My parents still joke about how they would walk past her pillow and she would growl at them, “Leave me alone; it’s Monday.” Not in a mean way, you understand, but just as a warning (It’s Monday, don’t mess with me). I always rather loved that she had a little bit of a temper, and that she learned to control it. Which she did. When she chased that tennis ball, she hadn’t growled at anything for a month; before that, it had been three weeks. I was so darn proud of her for that! I know myself how hard it is to learn to control that.
Really, we were a lot alike!
Katy was 20-months old when I lost her. She had been acting like a nice, adult dog for about two months, like she had flicked a switch at 18-months, so I got to see what a wonderful dog she had become. Since she was practically perfect in so many ways, she timed her exit perfectly, too. She plotted a perfect collision course with that car coming up the street–the driver never had a chance to see her. Her neck was broken, and she was gone by the time I reached her (not that I was willing to admit that). No unnecessary suffering, thank God. Really. If it had to happen, she did it perfectly.
The driver couldn’t have been nicer. She drove us to the vet, where I said good-bye. The vet himself was wonderful–he trimmed off some of her fur for a keepsake and later, made me a clay imprint of her paw (something I had planned to do, but ran out of time). While I was at the vet, my next-door neighbors scrubbed the blood off the street for me so I wouldn’t have to face it when I got home. (Possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.)
I wouldn’t, of course, give Chappy up for anything in the world–you all know that. And I know that if I hadn’t lost Katy, I would never have been lucky enough to bring him home, and that’s unthinkable. But still. I do wish I had waited to throw that ball.
Katy was a wonderful dog. She had to be. If she hadn’t been so loving and smart and beautiful, I wouldn’t have Chappy. She helped show us how great having an actually trained dog could be.
So in a way, I owe Chappy to her.
She would have been an excellent big sister, too . . . just as long as he didn’t mess with her on Monday mornings.
Katy.
September 7, 1999 – May 12, 2001.
We were silly together, but we sure had fun.
May Days
Posted on May 5th, 2005
I can’t believe it’s May 5th already. May is a red letter month in my family. My brother-in-law’s birthday is the 11th. My niece’s 16th birthday is on the 24th. My nephew’s 12th birthday is on the 20th.
Naturally, I graduated college (Drew University) in May–on the 20th, 1989–on, in fact, my niece’s due date. She very thoughtfully waited four more days before being born, and thus timed her arrival exactly halfway between my brother-in-law’s and my sister’s birthdays (June 7th). Not bad timing, considering she didn’t have access to a calendar, but then, she’s always been pretty thoughtful. And my nephew obviously thought that date sounded so nice, he used it for his own arrival. (We’re a very close family.)
May also ties in with almost all of our family dogs.
We lost Muppy (on the left), our very first dog on May 5th, 22 years ago, when she was exactly 5 1/2 years old. (It was a rare form of anemia; nothing we could do.) Almost exactly a year later, on the day after Mother’s Day, we adopted Jilly (to the right). They were both miniature dachshunds; Muppy was a wire-haired; Jilly was smooth. Poor Muppy (whose name is short for “Mustard,” since she was a hot dog and we were kids). She was here for such a short time, and none of us had really decent cameras, so this professional shot is one of the only good pictures of her. Her fur was beautiful–she was more silver than tan, but had some of just about every possible hair color in there somewhere. It’s just such a shame she was so often sick.
Jilly had more classic dachshund coloring, and we were lucky enough to have her for a long, full life–almost 15 1/2 years! For my Boykins, I also lost Katy in May (on the 12th), four years ago . . . (Right around the time Chappy was being conceived, actually, so I suppose he’s got some connection to May, too!)
Mom and I always go on vacation together in May–have been since I was in college. In fact, in two weeks, I’ll be on Martha’s Vineyard. (Can’t wait!) We’ll have Chappy with us, too, and I’m sure a good time will be had by all. We’re timing this trip to overlap the refacing of our kitchen and bathrooms, too, so Mom and Chappy won’t be stressed by the household chaos. (My father actually volunteered to give up golf for a week, which, if you knew my father, would tell you exactly how stressed my mother would have been.)
Which reminds me, I need to find some good reading material to bring with me. Usually, I’ll have at least one, looked-forward-to book to bring along. (A relic of the days when Mom would buy one “Vacation Book,” which I wasn’t allowed to start until we were actually on vacation. Waiting to start it was agony.) This year, though . . . nothing special. I’m sure I’ll find something decent to bring along, but . . . nothing that’s got me champing at the bit.
And, we may be the only family that bothers to keep track of these things, but my half-birthday is in May. Tomorrow, in fact. Yes, I know it sounds silly. Who bothers to know when their half-birthday is? Except that, when you’re a kid, those halves are important! Four-and-a-half is much older than just plain, old four. (Everyone knows that!) We never did anything elaborate, of course, but Mom would say, “Happy Half-Birthday,” and might make a point of not making anything particularly disliked for dinner. One year, honest to goodness, she gave me half of a birthday card. (I really do come by these eccentricities honestly.)
May has Mother’s Day (U.S.) and Memorial Day, too . . . that includes a nationally-mandated 3-day weekend from work.
Really, except for the allergy thing, who could have anything against the Merry Month of May?
Oh! And I finished my shawl last night! I’ll get some pictures when I block it . . .
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