crazy times

A little more than a week ago, I was thinking that perhaps the trip to France was misplaced. That right now, staying home and reading endless novels (in the spare hours that sometimes pop up inbetween kid care and Henry worries) was what I needed, not an overseas adventure.

I was wrong. The trip did me a world of good. It cleared my head and allowed me to think carefully, without distraction, about what comes next. And, of course, Paris is my balm -- a great one for stormy days. And I think we would all agree that we are all living in crazy times, so for that reason alone, any relief from anxiety or stress should be sought out and applied liberally.

But now, here I am entering my period of self-inflicted chaos. A week and a half more in the apartment, dreading each elevator ride with poor terrified Henry, a week and a half of organizing myself, getting ready for the move (how did I do it in just one week back in September? It seems more daunting now, probably because of the added Henry factor), a week and a half of preparing for the arrival of the new dog, a week and a half to get over jet lag and put the trip behind me. 

Let's start with a quiet morning. Henry isn't here yet so I could linger in bed, just like in France. I had gone to bed so late, surely I could stand a few more hours of sleep! Easier said. I have such a flood imperatives to write down on my many to-do lists, that it's silly to fret in bed about them. Best to get the day rolling. 

Breakfast. Good old granola once again. 

And then I start in on it. Not packing yet. But everything else. (The balcony cleaning alone will take a lifetime! Those birds! Whose idea was this anyway? In my next home, the feeder is going to stay away from any house surfaces.)

 

 

 

I'm glad that latest findings indicate that carrying heavy things is good for you. That it may preserve your muscle mass. That to a degree, it slows down the aging process. Because I think that in my retirement years, I have done a lot of lifting and carrying. Before, it was the grandkids. And soil and wood chips for the garden. Now? Groceries of course. From car to the apartment -- that's a big walk right there. And also boxes. The package delivery room here is a stroll down long corridors. But the big kahuna is all the moving. As I was lugging ten new bankers boxes (because of course I threw away the old ones), I realized that not only have I moved a lot in the last two decades, but I've also moved my mom a lot in the last half dozen years. All those clumsy heavy boxes of stuff -- hers, mine... My muscle mass must delighted. Let's hope it doesn't let me down in the next couple of weeks.

 

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop at school. We cant really hang out at the Edge too long...

 

... 
 

 

... because I have to get Henry and it's quite the drive. She is in an especially chatty mood and by the time we reach Camp K9, I feel myself to be fully caught up on her school capers. 

 

Henry. Oh, has he been an interesting pup in his ten days at Camp K9! They wont soon forget him. At first, he destroyed his room furnishings (well, the bed... that's all that was in it). Then he got very nervous with people coming and going. Always though, he was a champ at playtime with other dogs. And eventually he learned to like some staff members enough that he let them nuzzle him. Sometimes. He was to have a bath, but he totally refused to cooperate for that, so they gave up. And now, here I am, ready to take him home.

I watch him come out. They've put a sweater on him. Small wonder -- it's bitter cold outside. He sees me, he sees Snowdrop, but he isn't sure about any of it. As if he can't quite comprehend this. She's back? They're back? Really? 

Within a minute it t sinks in.

He can't stop jumping and nuzzling and licking and being my greatest big pooch. The whole ride back. His nose is on my neck, my ear, my head. 

 (he's our navigator once again)

 

 

All this time I had been wondering -- what is going through his head? Does he think this Camp is his forever future? Does he feel abandoned? When he sees me again, will it fall into place for him? Once back, will the Edge noises and strangers scare him even more? Or maybe less?

Tonight, he is super-glued to me. Almost in a daze. His sad pleading eyes following my every move.

 

 

 

I've learned with Henry that he needs time before he can fully accept a new situation and mark it as an indisputably safe one. That if he turns away and then comes back, I will be there waiting for him.  For now, he is just seems so incredibly relieved to be home again. We will see how the next one and a half weeks will unfold. (I am not even going to think about what comes after!)

with so much love...