Category: Blog (Page 100 of 101)

News of The 70273 Project with a side of Jeanne’s Barefoot Heart

lost (then found) in translation

August 20, 2009 / jeanne / 16 Comments

first let me say for the record: i love my vet. LOVE him.

really.

and today was the day to take my 4-legged child to see him (the vet) for the annual vaccines. we both (phoebe, the dog and i) look forward to seeing the vet, and today started out as no exception.

but THEN we got inside . . .

blondeassistantgirl says: ohmygawd, phoebe is SO overweight.

i hear: you are SUCH a sorry excuse for a dog ownerette.

she says: what do you feed her?

i say: kibbles. oh, and bits.

she says: ohmygawd, that’s the WORST POSSIBLE thing you could feed her.

i hear: slut. you sorry, sorry slut. i’ll bet YOU eat the kibbles and leave only the bits for phoebe.

she takes my dog out of the room while i read the nearby archaeology today magazine dated 02/1403 (the novel ideas edition filled with such delectibles as shovels. and dirt). then all too soon, blondassistantgirl re-enters with phoebe and the vet in tow. she lets them enter first then she closes the door and leans against it. smugly, i think. she’s leaning against that door smugly.

vet says: phoebe is SO overweight. if we don’t get some of this weight off, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah dire blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah new meds blah blah blah blah blah reroute blah the fat blah blah cells blah blah blah oh, and hello how are you blah blah blah blah.

i hear: you wicked, wicked, horrible, terrible, scumbag of a pet caregiver. look at you, sitting there. just look at you. look. at you. why you’re just lucky i don’t sick the doggie social workers on you.

vet continues: blah blah blah blah blah blah fat blah blah blah blah weight blah blah blah blah problems blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

i think: yeah, well, i have this friend whose wife was a nutrition consultant AND a personal fitness trainer and one day when she was out in the driveway yelling for her kids to come on because they were going to be late for school, she dropped over. dead before she hit the pavement. and she was not that tall. not as short as me, but not that tall. really. so think about it: she did everything RIGHT, and bless goodness if she didn’t die anyway.

vet: and i can tell you don’t blah blah blah blah brush blah blah blah her teeth blah blah blah on a blah blah blah blah daily basis. blah blah blah problems blah blah blah woe be unto you blah blah blah blah blah.

i sink lower in the seat and hear: i can’t believe this dog is even still alive. how are your children? how’s your mother? husband?

vet checks phoebe’s rear knee joints and says: ohhhh noooooo. i feel the blah blah blah blah blah blahgenning stages of arthritis. blah blah have you noticed any blah blah blah blah blah blah blah change in the way she walks?

i quietly say: nooo . . . ?

to which the vet says: blah blah blah blah well, if you’re SURE you haven’t noticed blah blah blah blah anything different, blah blah blah blah prescription blah blah blah blah blahrthritis blah blah blah blah blah.

which i hear as: of course YOU wouldn’t notice a difference in her gait. she could lose the use of all four of her legs and YOU wouldn’t notice because YOU are NOT . . . and right then i kinda’ made myself stop listening to myself (and the vet) and dove right into a full-fledged pity party, complete with self-reciminations like you wouldn’t believe. the self-flogging went on for a while – blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah drawing boundaries blah blah blah blah blah internalize blah blah blah blah blah blah culminating with something to the effect of when you have spent your life being a caregiver, it’s hard to hear stuff like this spew from the vet’s lips and not take it personally – which actually, i have to say, felt like good, solid justification somehow, and let’s face it: it kept me in that pity party for a while longer. which was fine with me cause i wasn’t nearly ready to leave yet anyway.

blondassistantgirl: that’ll be $175.00

to which i say (on the inside): jeez, you mean to tell me i’m paying $175 for half-hour of scolding, i am so in the wrong business . . . and then i remembered how i paid the dentist more for half-hour of scolding and $175 didn’t seem quite so bad. until i wondered why i would pay ANYBODY to scold me. i mean, i break into hives at the sight of a red pencil . . . which could mean that i don’t handle criticism well – which is something i’ve told myself many times before – and right about then i realize the pity party isn’t nearly over yet, so i talk to phoebe about it all the way home and eventually, finally i get to the core question: why on earth does it matter to me what others think about me? and then – right after i give phoebe a (small) treat – i load up my ipod with tunes that have a really good walking beat (okay, i do the ipod loading after unfolding myself from the fetal position i assumed on the sofa) because beginning tomorrow, miss phoebe and i start hoofing it around the neighborhood.

i will walk until my clothes feel comfortable on me again, and phoebe . . . well, phoebe will walk until my clothes feel comfortable on me again, too. and maybe, just maybe, i’ll eventually walk right on away from worrying so damn much about what others think of me.

you know, i really do need to get out more.

and i don’t mean to the vet’s office.

or the dentist, either.

but now we’re going to bed, my little porker and me, because all that putting words in other people’s mouths is exhausting. absolutely exhausting.

a wordless story told with sole

August 18, 2009 / jeanne / 0 Comments

and this, kids, is what you get when you combine too much time with a new camera.

trekking on down memory lane

August 16, 2009 / jeanne / 16 Comments

last night found me at hippiefest with hubbie, daughter, daughter’s friend, and a friend of my own from long ago. as we trekked down memory lane, remembering through familiar songs sung by men who sang them back in the day – the names and the tunes familiar if not the aged voices.

i remembered a girl who not only loved to stitch and sew, embellish plain closet doors with collages of photos of things that captured her attention, repaint furniture to suit . . . i remembered a girl who loved to wear pretty clothes (and on whom clothes looked pretty)

(sorry for fuzzy picture – i’m auditioning new cameras, and this one is obviously not The One.)

i remembered a girl who read everything she could get her hands on, a girl who collected words and copied sentences she liked and wrote stories.

i remembered a girl for whom music was a jet plane, taking her wherever she needed . . . or wanted . . . to go in a mere measure or two, music that also provided an escape hatch, allowing her to vacate moods and memories that she wanted to leave. a girl who played colorful tunes on the piano like her grandmother before her.

i remembered falling in deep, instantaneous love with a man who has never once asked me to be more than who i am, accepting (if not understanding) that who i am is subject to frequent change, even while who i really am remains the same.

and then somewhere in the night, i found myself looking forward, thinking and wondering about the future, knowing i did not have to/would not leave the future up to chance. that’s when i decided to do what so many others have done before me: make a list of things i still want to do. so today i got out pen and paper and started My The List.

i was on fire – jotting things like this was my only chance, and in the end, i came up with a list of 3 things.

count them: 3.

oh, i actually came up with many, many more – it’s just that i got all hung up on what’s a real desire worthy of going on My The List and what’s merely a to do and what’s something i feel like i ought to put on My The List because it seems like it’s something i ought to to want to do.

maybe it’s the brownies from last night.

kinnected: day one

August 10, 2009 / jeanne / 8 Comments

(i’ll explain the pose tomorrow.) (or the next day.)

laughter. that’s the language we spoke today. not just those silly giggles, but good old-fashioned bely laughs. the infectious kind of laughs to which no one is immune.

it’s been a day filled with moments i wish i could just freeze and capture – put in a jar somehow so i could pull them out on the days when i need a good laugh, a good memory. (maybe there’s an iphone app for that?)

there are 3 generations here, the idea is for my mother to enjoy a week with her 3 grandchildren with me along as . . . for . . . well, i’m just here. we’re one day into the plan, and so far, so good.

on the day spent with my cousin last week, it was memories of grandmother that segued from one topic to another. our favorite shared memory is how grandmother leapt out of her reserved demeanor every new year’s day. she’s sit in that god-awful piece of furniture under the telephone (i swear, it looked like some cheap souvenir one of the kids picked up for her at a roadside stuckey’s and brought home to prove to her they were, too, thinking about her while on vacation), going down the list of children and grandchildren:

she dialed.
ring-ring. ring-ring.
“hello?” answered the callee on the other end.
“is this 1-9-8-2? (or whatever the year was)” she’d ask, barely able to squelch her laughter before committing the unpardonable sin of hanging up without even saying bye.

it’s become one of our favorite shared annual rituals now, my cousin and i racing to see who can call the other one first thing on new year’s day, wishing we could be like her in more ways than this.

a friend once revealed that she wanted to adopt her granddaughter, and even though she didn’t ask my opinion or even my thoughts on the matter, i put on my best maxine-self and blurted ahead anyway about what a dang fool thing that would be, depriving that adorable child of an invaluable resource: her grandmother.

grandmothers play such an important role in a grandchild’s life. grandmothers don’t need glasses to see the best in each grandchild. grandmothers don’t need letters after their names to teach their grandchildren the most important things in life.

it was my paternal great-grandmother who taught me to like potatoes and cornbread. mimi lived in the cutest, most adorable house-for-one built especially for her by my daddy and his brother, gene. mimi took in sewing to create grocery and pin money. one of my most treasured possessions is the doll dress she made for one of my babies, all of it stitched by hand.

my maternal grandmother made quilts – one for each child and grandchild. these were everyday quilts – we used them for picnicking on the beach, for protecting precious cargo during moves, and mostly for comforting us when sick. several years ago, i held a family reunion and asked that everybody bring their quilts made by grandmother. my backyard was filled with boisterous relatives, and when the first quilt was taken to the edge of the woods and held up by its owners, a hushed awe filled the air. “she really was an artist,” someone said as we all took in the quilts – one by one – from afar.

distance is important to perspective – there’s no doubt about that. this week we’ve reduced the geographical distance, coming together to laugh the days away. we’ll spend the week creating memories that will grow soft around the edges with time, while comforting and warming us for a long, long time. it’s what i call a dream vacation.

(especially if we all come out of it alive.) (i’m just sayin’ . . .)

out to lunch . . . sorta’

August 6, 2009 / jeanne / 0 Comments

so much for planning. did see the favorite cousin. did not get new computer set up. just now finished transferring all files from the previously-used-still-loved laptop, am about to start testing all applications for usability on new computer, reinstall print drivers, etc. doing some digital nesting.

back tomorrow . . .

waking up on memory lane

August 5, 2009 / jeanne / 4 Comments

though my children are no longer in school (unless, like me, you count life as school – but we’ll save the philosophy for another day), i still operate on a school calendar. which means that the lazy, hazy days of summer are coming to an end. screeching to a halt. closing.

but wait: what lazy hazy days of summer?

i can remember waking up and just lying in bed, the birds singing me to consciousness, the day beckoning me with all the opportunities it held as treasures. i felt so, so . . . in control of my life. there was time in those summer days, and i spent it traveling through books; adding to my collection of words and thoughts in my notebooks; swimming in the lake as the bottom gushed up between my toes; painting my furniture with antiquing kits ordered from the sears catalog; carving my initials in a tree; rolling down hills (and coming home with grass-stained clothes to prove it); eating lunch at grandmother’s house – my plate filled with fresh vegetables we picked maybe an hour before devouring them.

i sewed, creating clothes i wore proudly. i stitched, grabbing something from the closet and embellishing it – transforming it – with decorative embroidery.

i added to the collage of photos that transformed my closet doors. i rearranged my furniture. i napped at will and without apology.

the days were leisurely full: deliciously, creatively, spaciously full.

am here in my beloved n.c. now – phoebe and i trekked up yesterday for a short visit. for reasons i cannot explain, the days are more spacious here – resembling those i remember so fondly – opening up to allow most anything i choose.

today i’ll be setting up my new computer (i do so hope it’s as easy as “they” say it is – am just transferring files from one apple laptop to another, but the hiccup is that the old laptop is really, really, really old while the new laptop is really, really, really new. am hoping my software will be able to make itself at home on the new playground.) and auditioning 3 paint colors for the exterior of the house: Zenful, Early Morning Mist, and Enlighten Mint. (i’m leaning towards enlighten mint – the color’s okay, but oohh those words.) (remember how i told you i collected words? sometimes just for fun, i go to the paint store and read names of paint colors.) (and you should see my collection of race horse names.)

i’m also looking forward to seeing a favorite cousin of mine . . . perhaps that’s the kindling for the nostalgic tone this morning. i do so enjoy our reminiscing – sometimes philosophically and psychologically, often humorously, always lovingly.

joyous feat/feet

August 2, 2009 / jeanne / 8 Comments

he danced not with the stars

but under the stars.

while others did the shag and something that resembled the jitterbug,

his arms flapped,

his elbows moved in and out as if wings,

his legs hoisted him up and down

on that one small spot of dance floor he claimed for his own.

he obviously heard a different rhythm,

and he danced to it with huge tenacious enthusiasm.

two women linked arms with him and began doing a modified can-can kick,

urging him to join them

but he did not succumb.

not for a second.

he ~~bounced and flapped~~ danced on,

losing himself in the music he heard, moving to the beat of his own drummer.

watching him dance

was worth the price of admission.

36 years . . . and counting

July 31, 2009 / jeanne / 18 Comments

we met quite by accident on january 27 of that year, became engaged on april 1 of that same year, then married on july 31 – you guessed it – of that same year.

on a tuesday night so we wouldn’t mess up the weekend.

we were so young and so trusting. we knew the world would accommodate us. we were bulletproof as long as we had each other. we would never grow old or bored or infirmed. we expected the best from the world and each other, and we have not been disappointed.

we finished undergraduate school (and i, graduate school), birthed and raised 2 fantastic children, buried parents, developed individual careers and hobbies, and laughed at every opportunity. we have known fun; we have known sorrow. there have been spaces in our togetherness . . . and we have remained in love.

somehow.

(i think it has a lot to do with laughing more than complaining and having the same taste in wallpaper.)

never too late for epiphanies

July 30, 2009 / jeanne / 12 Comments

being a woman raised in the south (it may be true for other regions, but i’ve only lived in the south so i don’t know), i’ve been on stage all my life: doing things to find myself pleasing to others and saying only nice, safe things that others would not find offensive or threatening. even now i still have a tendency to drop into my sweetest little non-threatening-me-jane-you-obviously-tarzan southern drawl – heavily peppered with self-deprecating humor, of course – when talking to men in positions of authority because i learned long, long ago that it’s the quickest way to get them to do what i know is the right and necessary thing to do.

well, anyway

somewhere along the way, i picked up on the notion that good girls focus only on the positive, turning a blind eye, deaf ear, and closed mouth towards anything that could possibly be construed as negative. it’s a notion that’s deeply embedded . . . which is why i’ve often apologized when talking about all the things that go wrong in a theatrical production.

but just last week, an amazing epiphany came to visit: just because i tell and retell the mishaps and bobbles that are a part of any theatrical production does not mean i’m focusing on the dreaded-and-always-to-be-avoided negative, and it does not mean i’m a despicable person. no, no, no.

how silly that seems now.

stories of what “went wrong” enjoy a tenured and prominent place in literature: the s/hero leaves home, goes out into the world, encounters giants and dragons and all sorts of bad and evil challenges, then – and this is the best part – s/he doesn’t just meet those challenges but overcomes the obstacles in the proverbial road, learning something invaluable and potentially life-changing at every turn.

that’s what we do in theatre with every single show. props can’t be found. entrances are late. cues are missed. lines are forgotten. zippers break. wigs fall off. divas reign (or try to) (onstage and off). and i tell, tell, and retell those stories not because i’m a horrid ole’ wolf but because they are stories of survival and triumph.

here i have been feeling quite guilty for focusing on the negative, frequently apologizing or at the very least balancing the story with something positive. i know that artists often turn boo-boos into part of the creation – i embrace the notion of wabi-sabi – i just never applied that to me. but now, finally, i realize that the negative is positive. these things that go awry, these trips, stumbles, and sometimes flat-out falls aren’t negative, they’re the most redeeming kind of positive because despite any hurdle, obstacle, dragon, vampire, giant, or diva divine, the show does go on.

i feel so much better now – a bit embarrassed that it took me so long to come to such a seemingly simple and obvious mindset – but oh so relieved.

now

did i tell you about the night when . . .

what jeanne did in july

July 28, 2009 / jeanne / 14 Comments

in the fall of 2005, my daughter started a community theatre company, The Twilight Theatre. the people who were going to help her on the top level, turned out to be less than honorable people, despite their public facade of being devout church goers.

anyway

i became involved to help my daughter grow her dream – a dream that was just plain too big for one person to grow. as the years have ticked along, others have stepped up to help in big ways – people who are dependable and responsible and honorable, so my role has been divvied out in parcels, but i’m still here. still involved.

though she prefers performing, moxie (my daughter) is a gifted director, and last weekend she proved it once again when the musical oliver! opened to great reviews. though not in the (huge) cast and not involved nearly as much at the show level as i have been in years past, i came onboard for the past 3 weeks to help out with all the details that can easily eat up 14 hours or more every day. details nobody thinks of until and unless they are not tended.

this week between shows, i get my feet back under me (even though another big musical, annie get your gun, started rehearsals last night and there’s another small children’s show opening in 2 weeks, those don’t eat up as much clock – at least not right now) and rejoin the world.