Camp starts today

If you step out of the shower in a hotel room, reach for your comb to fix up your freshly washed hair and find that you forgot to pack it, you do the following: 1. call guest services and ask how come they dont provide those cheap little combs in bathrooms like they used to (even though you know that this was a wasteful practice and few guests were dumb enough not to pack, of all things, a comb); 2. quickly get dressed and hop over to a nearby Walgreens where there are plenty of combs for your purchasing pleasure; 3. shrug your shoulders and get on with the day, believing that a rat's nest on your head isn't going to make the slightest difference to your day. If you picked number 1 you are a rational human being, ready to fight for your rights in life. If you picked number 2 you are a wimp that will spend any amount of money rather than ask politely for help. If you picked number 3 you are like me -- indifferent to the small stuff. Weightier issues fill your head and you're not going to be bothered about a rat's nest.

*     *     *

Looking out my hotel room window. I'm on the 14th floor (that is an upgrade for no reason I can think of except maybe that the hotel is not very full). It boggles my mind that the apartments on the top floors of these buildings (see photo) go for millions. Who would want to live that high? And I say this having grown up in Manhattan, though never living higher than the 18th floor. (The building hiding toward the back of the tower here is the John Hancock, well, officially no longer called that, though unofficially, it's the John.)

*     *     * 

I walk over to Eataly for breakfast. I could simply Uber back to my daughter's house and eat there, but I know that once I get there, I should quickly whisk away Primrose and allow my daughter to get on with her work and honestly, I need a few more minutes to process the events of this past week.

I had a wonderfully soothing conversation with my girl, with her husband too last night, but perhaps you know this from your own experience: crises, especially ones that have sizeable medical components to them, are like wrecking balls. They swing left and right and destroy everything in sight and you have to find ways to guard against that (if you can). Talking helps, but so does thinking and worrying and processing. I'm no shrink, but I have to think it's better to acknowledge your fears than sweep them under the rug. 

Besides, I like Eataly.

(empty at this early hour)

 

 

(capitalism, telling us what our home really needs, making you feel the anger of not affording it even as others can)

 

 

(urban mirrors: I always look for them in Paris, never in Wisconsin...)

 

 

(my hotel's art: I think it's for the soccer tournament and for America's birthday)

 

 

*     *     * 

And now it's time to hit the road for Grandma Camp, listening to Primrose's playlist all the way. Primrose is 8 years old and there's a lot of Taylor Swift on it. I tell my grandgirl that I so admire Swift to have managed at her young age the business aspects of her career so well. Primrose responds -- grandma, she is in her thirties!  Oh, oops. Really ancient! 

We pick up the two older cousins and go to Culver's for lunch. Their choice.

I let them set the activities for rest of the day, which indeed may be a mistake. What do 8 and 11 year olds know about structure and mood adjustments? In the past I've always just insisted on my framework. Camp is camp. But I want them to have a looser rein and so we try it. They reject water activities in favor of going back to Steffi's House and taking a look at the art loot I amassed thinking that I may just have Primrose for the week. And eventually they do settle upstairs and get to work. Something about notebooks and stories.

Oh I see. Three plays were written. And then acted out for me and Millie.

 

 

 

*     *     * 

Sandpiper comes over after his school day ends and joins the three older kids for a dinner of crunchy chicken and corn and pasta. And a movie (they all love my very favorite-cant-live-without-them wheat crackers).

And then quiet settles over Steffi's house. Well, except for the occasional woof.

So where was Millie in all this? Well, for much of the afternoon she hid in her crate. Last time she came back from Julie's (her loyal babysitter), I had moved. This time? A troop of kids invaded the normally quiet house.  If I were her, I'd think Julie was some kind of a witchy person who transformed the world as we know it. Or maybe that Julie was her savior as the planet spun out of control behind her back.

(At Millie's pickup)

 

 

We will see how the night goes. For Primrose, For Millie. For my friend. For me.

with so much love... 

 

Camp starts tomorrow

Her name was Lola. She was not a showgirl. (Have you ever read the life story of Barry Manilow, the author of those lyrics?) She was a seven year old dog, looking very much like a black and white boxer. Lola has passed by our house during porch breakfast.

Today she and her owner paused. Lola likes small dogs but is scared of pretty much everything else. Millie is vocal in ways that you can't always tell if she is scared or eager to play. Lola came up the stairs to Steffi's House and I opened the gate so that the two dogs could meet and greet. 

And they did. And Millie was delirious with joy. Lola is the first dog in this whole neighborhood that Millie got to know up close and personal.

There are a lot of yappy barky growly big dogs around here and their owners try to keep them away from other canine encounters. Rightly so, I suppose. But this has frustrated Millie no end and it has encouraged her to bark in protest and wag every time a dog walks by. At doggie daycare, she plays with everyone (but especially her two BFFs). At home, she is allowed to play with no one. It's been a struggle for her.

And the neighborhood dog owners? Nice people, albeit closed off in their own lives. If I wanted social contacts, I'd go to any number of the neighborhood activities. Morning coffee every I dont know how often. Evening drinks, posted on Facebook. A monthly book club. There's even an annual picnic, coming up, on the "village green." But I've resisted most of these. No time and my head is elsewhere right now. I've now memorized the names of three neighbors in houses across the street. I'd call that progress!

This morning, a family with a dog and a kid in a stroller passed by. They're frequent walkers in these blocks, so much so that Millie doesn't bark her head off when she sees them coming. Only an occasional wistful woof. Today, the stroller child reached out and snipped off a rose as they passed Steffi's Garden. The mom gently told him "that's not for picking only for looking." Personally, I think that if I'm going to plant flowers so close to the sidewalk, I can expect some animal/child damage. I do want to engage people with my garden. You could say that this morning, I engaged!

Roses for today? The very bold and bright ones. I tended to prefer these when I first started including roses in my garden, back in late May or early June. Now, I'm much more interested in the very light pastels. Yellow, peach, pink, with cream overtones. Still, I'm glad I started with these vibrant ones. Nothing says "rose" more than a splash of bright burgundy-red in your garden.

 

 
 

 

 

 

Ed stops by to check up on stuff...

And then I am off to drop off Millie at Julie's while I drive to Chicago to pick up Primrose for Grandma Camp.

I have an afternoon and evening with the young family and it is just so good to be with them!

 

(my daughter is baking a clafoutis for dessert)

 

 

 (dad with a workbook and Juniper)

 

 

I ask Primrose to put together a playlist for the car ride back to Wisconsin. She takes my phone, moves her thumbs around quickly. and only toward the end does she ask her mom for some titles they like to listen to that she may have forgotten.

 

  

 

Take-out Thai for dinner, followed by the clafoutis.

 

 

 

After dinner, we watch an episode of Juniper's favorite show these days, Is It Cake? Humor is contagious. 

 

 

Funny how a mood can be helped by a few hours of this -- just being here, with the girls, their parents, the clafoutis...

I Uber down to my hotel for the night. Same one, in I swear, the same room, with the same city view.

 

 

with so much love...

 

... and back again

Last night, Primrose asked me if I liked having crazy Sadey around. (I had described how I left two chocolates in the rear corner of the counter in the evening and later the next day I noticed that there was only one. Chocolate, in case you don't know, is a real poison for dogs. Just one example of the vigilance required!) I told her the truth: adding Henry, then Sadey to my home has added a lot of work for me. The day is often more difficult because of them. But, tell me one thing in life that feels rewarding and great that is not difficult! I love having the two pooches, despite the hardships that came with adopting two rescue dogs that are active, often fearful, and yes -- sometimes nuts! 

Nevertheless, it was nice to wake up and not rush out in the cold weather to be dragged by a forceful dog who doesn't know how to walk on a leash! You appreciate such small luxuries when they aren't part of your everyday!

I look outside. I lived in New York, Manhattan no less, for nearly ten years of my life so I should not be surprised by these stacked homes, one on top of another, next to more structures with equally stacked homes and yet, when I see them now, it seems so overwhelming...

 

 

 

I Uber over to the young family's home in time for breakfast. They sweetly waited for me, even though I dont get there until after 9 -- hours, I'm sure, after their get up and get moving time!

My focus is on the girls: they play with their mice... 

 

 

 

... and I fit in another Uno game (or two) with Primrose -- we're now up to 8 wins to the girl, 4 for me!

 

 

 

And then it's time to head out to lunch.

My daughter wants to try out a place where she can reliably get pierogi for a future school event. A friend of Polish background recommended Jolly Inn -- apparently an institution in Chicago's Polish community. 

The place is large and it serves an all-you-can-eat buffet of Polish foods. Three types of pierogi, sure, but these are just a small fraction of everything there. Meats that I did not even examine. Potatoes prepared variously, many types of cabbage -- both in raw salad form and in the traditional hunters stew. Fish, barley and mushroom soup, chicken noodle soup, blintzes, fried apple pancakes, potato pancakes, kielbasa, you name it, they have it. Here's just a small sample:

(bigos -- a cabbage stew -- not just one)

(pierogi -- potato, cabbage and mushroom, meat)

(salads: cabbage, beets, cucumbers...)

(kids' interest in the dessert selection? high.)

(my plate)

 

The staff all speak Polish and that's the language of choice as you enter. Our waitress is young: she came to Chicago just a couple of years ago, to visit her grandfather (the rest of the family is back in Poland). She liked it, she stayed. But many of the others are Polish only by virtue of having Polish-American parents. Yet they all speak Polish perfectly and of course I got chastised for never teaching my own kids Polish. (Notably, both daughters are doing online lessons in the language.)

The food? Well, it's old Poland. Stuff that was prepared in many kitchens when I was growing up (if there were meats available in the store -- not at all a given). It was so very strange for me to be immersed in it all again, with this very American family of mine. Yes, my daughter has been to Poland with me. Twice in fact. But it was to visit almost as a tourist. I'd kept my Polishness to myself most of the time. And now here we are...

(she liked the jello dessert)

 

 

(they both liked the applesauce...) 

 

It was, as always, so very sad to leave them all. The drive back is in a way easier, because I lose myself in processing the beautiful weekend. The hours just fly. [And at home, I quickly book my next Chicago trip. Not until April but hey, that's next month because today we start in on March. The month of spring!]

 

I drop off my bags and drive to Camp K9 to pick up the two pooches. How were they? I suppose you could break up the answer to a before and after. Their report card was great! Ate a lot, "sweet and loving," played well, shared a kennel without issue. But though they had time on Saturday at the Camp "daycare," meaning play time with other dogs, today they only had 20 minutes of doggie frolic. Hmmm... that wont be enough for them. I do understand that Sunday does not offer hours of "daycare"  play, but still, I'm going to have two wild dogs at home if they spent the day basically in the kennel. 

Should I take them to the dog park? 

The obvious answer is "no, I should not." Henry still barks at some people, up close and personal. Aren't I inviting trouble? 

 I drive past our nearby park. At sunset time, there aren't many people giving their pooches a good run. And the entryway is free of scary people. It would be so good for them...

And it is good for them. They run crazily, chasing mostly each other, playing with the gusto of two dogs with too much energy. 

Nonetheless, it wasn't the best idea I ever had. My pooches were too wound up, too thrilled with their freedom, too hyper. Henry found his barking targets and he added jumps to the mix. The people were understanding, but I was mortified. The dog park needs to hit a pause button. Such a shame...

 

 

On the upside, the pups had their exercise. After a raucous homecoming, a supper finished in five seconds, a few minutes chewing in separate quarters, they found their comfortable spots and settled down to a nice quiet rest. And I did too. Eventually. 

 

 

 

 

Tomorrow, I get serious about dog training. Spring resolutions! Because really, we're starting the season of new ideas and great transformations!

with so much love... 

 

to Chicago

Winter is a tough time for meetups with my Chicago younger daughter and her family. It's tough for them for all the obvious work/school/activities reasons and it's tough for me because at the end of a busy week, I do not find the drive there and back to be as easy as it once was. I've made that trip to the city hundreds of times since I moved to the greater Madison area in 1979. It's not at all a hard route to drive, it's more that I am less patient with the monotony of highway driving. It's more tiring than a hike up a steep mountain. Okay, perhaps not that, but in the winter it always seems strenuous. 

And yet, if I want to see the grandgirls going about the business of growing up, driving down is the easiest way to do this. It's been a couple of months since I've traveled there and I almost postponed my trip yet again. It's not the ideal time to put Henry and Sadey in a kennel. She is so new to life up here with me that I hate to throw this on her, though honestly, I don't think one night at Camp K9 is going to make her or break her. And I haven't yet celebrated my daughter's birthday (which was actually in January) yet! I told Ed to mind the house. A nice place to hang out, I should think!

And after the usual doggie wake up, after the walk...

 

And breakfast of course - theirs and mine...

After a few last barks at the neighborhood dogs...

I load the car with my tote, with very late birthday gifts, a bag of foods for the campers, and of course, the campers themselves.

I'm thinking. -- there's no way I'll get through the drop-off at the kennel without a fuss. I'm prepared for the struggle to get them inside. 

But there is no struggle! Is it because of Sadey being there at his side that, despite a slight tremor, Henry gallantly walks inside? What a relief!

 

The plan is for me to get to Chicago in time for lunch. Light traffic helps!

 

 

Thinking Polish thoughts, my daughter fixes a noodles with strawberries dish that has Polishness written all over it. Literally -- makaron z truskawkami. Juniper helps put it all together.

Primrose comes back from dance class in time to join us and to share in the desserts from Mindy's.

 

 

 

 

 

And then it's a laid back hangout time -- the best of the best for me. Six games of Uno with Primrose, all of which I lost, not for lack of trying. Summer planning. Dog stories, recalled. Lovely moments that make the trips here so very worthwhile!

 

We go to eat dinner at one of the neighborhood favorites -- Bar Parisienne.  Such good food! Such a fine evening!

I'm tempted to linger at their home afterwards. Primrose is practicing her piano, Juniper is in a playful mood, but I am tired enough that I resist the temptation. It didn't help that last night, my pooches raised a ruckus at 12:30 a.m. because the neighbors decided to let their dog out for a post midnight run outside. Time for me to retreat to my room at the downtown hotel, where for once I dont even have a great view to distract me. A few minutes on the computer, a few more with my book, and I'm out. That's the hope!

with so much love... 

from one place to the next

There's a lot of chaos and frenzy when you get ready to travel to a place that requires careful preparation. Did I remember the gifts for Primrose? My bag of just-in-case meds? Did I pack the right clothes? Get a thermos of warm tea ready for the drive? Is the car washed? Filled with gas? Are Henry's essentials all there? 

It is always a relief when you arrive, on time, and you know you haven't forgotten anything. You shift your attention to the events that really make all this worthwhile. Small things: a book read with a grandchild, a recipe discussed with your daughter, tree decorations admired, snatches of conversation, with all of them, but, too, a good listen to their own exchanges, with their friend, with each other. And big things: the Nutcracker, the birthday, meals together. I had recently said to Ed that this is what makes life worth living: those feelings of love that rush forward when you are with the people who are your everything. He still made the case for finding pleasure in solitude, but even though I, too, love solitary moments, and indeed need a good dose of them each and every day, the thing that keeps my wheels turning is lodged there in the in the lives of those whom I deeply love.

But then comes the departure. The sadness of leaving. Of heading away from my daughter's home. Sigh...

 

I wake up again on the late side. The Arctic blast will be receding today, but it's still darn cold outside. Many many degrees below freezing. 

 

Not that you can tell looking out at the blocks of tall towers, with people living one on top of the other. Wouldn't it be interesting to write a book of stories about the inhabitants of one such buildings? Do their worlds overlap? Or is it all a hodgepodge of disconnected universes? Bound in space, but not otherwise?

 

I wont see any of the young family today. They're off at work, in school, the usual Monday doings. I have one item on my list for today -- walk over to Eataly for a breakfast and a quick peak at the foods there.

I love this food emporium! Italy has the biggest number of these stores. Eataly headquarters are in the Piedmont (the northwestern corner of the country) and there are 14 stores in the bigger Italian cities. (The rest of the world has about 25 of them, spread over the continents; of those, 12 are in the US, mostly on the coasts and then this one in Chicago). Walking through the food aisles is a total pleasure, but I have a specific goal today: to pick out a panettone for the holidays. In years past, I'd ordered one online and indeed, you could argue that the very best one is actually made in Texas, but at a whopping price that I will not pay, so here I am looking at the authentic ones from Italy.

Oh, this one looks good! And on sale! The one to the right, with the Amarena Fabri cherries.

I put it in the basket. As I stroll, I notice that it was just one of many panettone displays.

The store is loaded with them, from every corner of Italy! Should I reconsider? Maybe the ones with pears and dark chocolate? Or orange peel from Sicily?

I stay with the cherries.

 

Now for a brisk walk back to the hotel...

 

 

 

I pass a long snaking line. 

 

 

It's so cold! What could they be waiting for? In postwar Poland, we always investigated long lines. What if there are lemons? Or better yet, toilet paper? So I ask these people -- what are you waiting to buy? 

You wouldn't believe the answer: a cup of coffee from the Ralph Lauren store. I can't help bugging them again. Just coffee? What so special about it? I mean, the paper cups are pretty, but really? Coffee? Why? (Notably, there are Starbucks all over the place. No lines.) The young women I badger think about this for a while. Because it's from Ralph Lauren... 

Did I miss the moment when it became super cool to drink coffee from a Ralph Lauren store? 

 

And then I drive back to Madison. Well, I Uber over to retrieve my car, and then I drive back. If it were warmer, I'd take the L train, but I'm still coughing away and the idea of a longer walk isn't doing it for me today.

I'm to pick up Henry at 4 and I've come to town a bit earlier. Perfect opportunity to stop over at the farmhouse and have something warming to drink.

(Maybe Ed's solitude isn't entirely solitary... Pancake now comes inside the farmhouse. So there are three cats that hang out here, and three that hang out in the sheep shed.)

 

 

 

I am of course anxious about Henry. Did he survive camp??

My sweet boy! To say that he is happy to see me is your understatement of the century. Henry is overjoyed. I let him jump all over me. Good thing I did not jump all over him.

Henry got a report card and I was eager to read their assessment of my pooch. 

There were no surprises. They saw him as a sweet, happy, well trained dog (!), a little shy, but with a tender temperament -- a dog who loved cuddles and of course, despite the weather -- loved his time outside. 

Now, you could say that this is a camp in the business of having you, the owner beam with pride, happy to do a repeat visit ASAP, because they love your dog so much.  Yet I think they checked all the right boxes for Henry Bean. Notably absent was a check in the "very talkative" box, giving him a "mellow" instead. Henry is mellow! And sweet! If a little shy.

Unfortunately, we cant go straight home -- he has a vet visit for a booster shot of something or other, plus a flu shot add-on, as the kennel requires it starting next year. I notice that there are benefits reaped from his camp adventure: he is more confident. The clinic? No problem! No hesitation. We walk right in. I want to weigh him. To get him on the scale? Not an issue! My pup is growing up! (Also getting bigger: he has gone from 51 pounds at the time of adoption two months ago, to 56 pounds today.)

Once all that is out of the way, we head straight for the Edge.

Home, for my happy Henry Bean. Never more than a foot away from my side all evening.

with so much love...