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...

 

authentic

To be your authentic self. I haven't entirely bought into that idea. My experience has been that people who seek authenticity full force, hurt others in the process.

And yet, I've known people who are a mask to the world, to themselves and that, too, is tough to deal with. I'll stay with this for now: no lies, no hurts, but stick with gentle honesty. the kind that doesn't hurt, to the extent that's possible. Sometimes it isn't. But you have to try. That, I feel, should be the goal.

Here's my own story then: Ocean has always leaned toward that goal: honesty, and I do try my damnest to tread carefully. Respectfully.  I'm not saying I've succeeded always. Well, with honesty -- yes I think I've done well there. With "respect?" That's always in the eyes of the beholder, isn't it... It's like asking someone "are you a good parent" as opposed to "where your mom and dad good parents."  You have to look at it from both sides. (Though to digress -- good parents are probably those who love their kids to pieces and have at least some confidence in their parenting, even if their kids think they stink at it.)

So here's my problem now: I have a set of challenging days. A close friend is not well. Respect calls for quiet on that subject. What do you care, after all, if someone I know is going through challenging times? Many people are facing supremely challenging times. The problem is that the spillover here is tremendous. It has far reaching consequences for me and will continue to do so for a long while. I'd say that since my divorce in 2005, I cant think that anything has shaken me as much as this. And I say this having buried two parents, one of them having had a horrible last year of life, and having had a mega crisis over two rescue dogs this winter, having had to adjust my living arrangements with Ed, incurring costs that I certainly had not expected in my long term planning, having friends with cancer and kids of friends with cancer -- all horrible stuff that I managed to swim through somehow, teetering a little but in the end, escaping without great damage. And now, here I am, trembling, and so I have to signal it here because, dare I say it, otherwise my writing on Ocean would be, well, sorry to revert to that word but... inauthentic. Perhaps not an outright lie, but as close to it as you can get without actually stating an out and out untruth.

I am okay because I have been bred to be okay, and because, as someone in a pickle once said -- what else can you do but cope and be okay? I mean, is there a choice? Also I have Ed, family -- small, but real, and great friends, and of course God or someone equally benevolent invented Zoom so it's not as if you can't have another warm body (or seemingly warm, given the heat of this summer) right in your living room.

And, I remind myself that this too shall pass and besides there's Millie and the roses, both of which were with me for breakfast on what is slated to be one of the last of the very nice summer days.

But here's the thing -- I am spending a lot of time on the computer -- on messaging and Zooming and the like -- so my day may seem rather bland in the retelling, even though I assure you, bland would be the last word I'd use to describe it. 

Worry not: tomorrow I am starting grandma camp by going to Chicago to pick up one of the participants. Camp will look slightly different this year -- longer, and with an appearance of some younger ones and disappearance of older ones and truly I am making adjustments as we speak, but camp it will be. (One of my youngest participants will be Millie who is not yet 9 months old. We will see how that goes!) But this I can say for sure -- it will not be a boring week!

In the meantime, I plant my Ruby Spice Summersweet and my Swamp Rose in Millie's yard today, while she assesses the impish possibilities the garden presents. Munching grass or bark are past favorites but she is ready to branch out.

And I check my other roses, admiring the varied blooms, delighting in the new buds forming everywhere.

And no, I haven't forgotten my other flowers, because there are a couple hundred non-rose flowers out there after all...

(the never photographed back corner of the yard)

 

(for a first year and a very late planting, the sweat pea and clematis are doing quite well, climbing up to the porch)

 

And I'm thinking -- how trite it is to say it, but it surely is a pretty world out there, what with the flowers and the birds and the fields and forests and your loved ones in it... A very pretty planet indeed. A shame we take it for granted and treat it with such disrespect. But then, our attitude toward the planet is much like me writing a post, or being authentic out there, or anything else for that matter -- sometimes you dont realize you're not at your kindest until you see the damage your carelessness has caused.

A rose bush arrives by Fed Ex. The good rose growers take off all the leaves before shipment. It's healthier for the plant that way. What they don't remove are the thorns of course, and today's rose is abundantly thorny! Big ones, little ones. I got sizable cuts before I even took the rose out of the box.  It's the Lark Ascending rose. Lovely peachy pink (it will be someday)! But so thorny.

Evening. I'm binge watching a Danish series (A Nearly Normal Family -- the title tells you a lot, doesn't it?). I'm on episode 5 out of 6. Oh the things a mom will do to protect her kid! Talk about family drama! And horrible boyfriends! This cannot end well for the good people in the story! (Millie chooses to sleep through it all.)

with so much love...

reconsider

Here is a sentence that would summarize my day: maybe I should move to the coast of Maine, black bears and and dark woods with strange, threatening noises notwithstanding.

The thing is, I used to believe that getting away, through travel, or even moving to a new place, removed you temporarily from the stresses of the day. from boyfriends who dont love you, from the demands on your time and on your mental bandwidth. But changing your environment offers its own stresses. If you move, the pain of that is tremendous. If you travel, so often you come home dead tired. Sleep deprived, weary from packing and unpacking. And of course, there are the black bears in Maine and Millie doesn't like new things.

But there's no denying it -- life is not rosy right now here in south central Wisconsin, despite the fact that I am fully entrenched in planting roses in Steffi's yard. When Ed asked me just now -- cant you lose yourself in some fun activity? You need to find one! -- I was exasperated! I have plenty to do with little time to do it. Kids, dogs, sick friends -- this is my life right now. 

("what's wrong with kids and dogs??!")

 

 

But, on the upside, the morning walk was misty-lovely...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breakfast was lovely...

And since Friday is Millie doggie daycare day, I was able to plant a rose. This was no small production. The rose is supposed to climb around an obelisk, but I chose to get a cheap obelisk rather than a solid heavy one and I have this terrible feeling that the rose (Polka, which is a heavy climber) will topple it. So I pounded it with a hammer to get it deeper into the ground and in so doing, the screws came off and the obelisk wobbled even more. Ah well, this is a problem I can postpone for another couple of years. It'll take that long for the rose to grow high enough to start messing with the dumb cheap obelisk.

Another gardening task for me today? Watering the front garden. We have 40% chance of rain in the forecast, but we've had that before and the rain never came -- why should it -- 40% means more likely it will not rain. Watering was actually very pleasant.

(a rose to admire)

 

Less pleasant was picking up my Alpine Blue car. Millie was definitely pleased -- she never got used to riding in the front seat of the slick new car. And I was too -- my music, my door opener, all there. But the bill for Henry's folly? close to $1000. And then of course there were the usual maintenance charges. I've always disliked throwing money into a car, but I do realize that Alpine Blue is now considered an old-ish car and the repairs will only start to multiply.

(Millie, happy do be home after riding in these awful cars!!!!!)

 

 

In the evening, since I could not step out and pick a bucketful of wild blueberries (that's a Maine thing, right?) I consoled myself with a hefty bar of good chocolate. Millie looked to see if I would share and when I didn't, she dozed off.

with so much love... 

the new normal

It seems that the new normal (for a while at least) is going to be rather bumpy, so it's time to adjust. Find the moments of calm and delight. 

Which is easy to do at breakfast time, what with the blooming flowers, and roses, and the fruits of the season and Millie...

Speaking of anxieties (were we doing that?), I have finally accepted the fact that my pup belongs to the class of dogs that hates, hates, hates with a passion anything out of the ordinary, Since it's decent weather, I decide to take her for a longer walk. Usually we just go to the end of the long block and home again. Or the dog park for exercise. But today I thought we should go for a proper walk. Along the bike path that is just a few steps from me and runs along the very beautiful wetlands (that also border the farmette lands). 

Well now. This is something new! I tug at her leash to encourage her forward. No. She resists. Tail's down. I coax and cajole. Nope. She refuses. But Millie, I want to see the backs of the houses across the street from me. I hear there's a beautiful garden there.  Nope.

I carry her so that I can view the gardens -- that's how scared she is of the new.

At home, I open the windows downstairs. I haven't done that in July because it's been so hot that the AC has had to be on most of the time. I do open the door (and let flies in!) so that Millie can go in and out sometimes, and so that I can refresh the air in here, but the windows have remained closed.

Millie does not understand. Is the outside world encroaching on her space? What's happening? Woof!

I propose we go to the dog park after her nap. I see her look at me with suspicion: that means a car ride, correct? She hides. I take her out. Again she shakes in this new vehicle. Yesterday I put her in my lap for the last minutes of our trip. Today I let her sit and shake riding shotgun. 

She doesn't really remember the dog park. We haven't been to it since before my trip to Poland.  Familiar, yet unfamiliar.

She's not exactly excited to be here, but she trots alongside (and occasionally rests in the shade)...

And importantly -- at least she gets some exercise, since long walks in the neighborhood seem to be... not her thing at the moment.

Oh, Millie! Sometimes I forget how young you still are! 

When she naps, I think about how to create a new normal for myself going forward. Here are some options: move to the coast of Maine and live on blueberries in the summer and learn to catch fish for protein. No, I'm not a fan of black bears and besides, old women living alone by a rocky coast -- that's asking for trouble.  How about this: pack the car with essentials and with Millie and head out to unknown destinations, staying in campgrounds or in motels with thin walls and soiled carpets. No, Millie would hate all that novelty.

Do you see "escape" written all over this post? Yes, daydreaming of it, but not really wanting it. My life is here, in lovely Steffi's House, with Millie, Ed nearby, and of course the roses.

Roses for today? Look at the shapes of these flower heads. I love the cupped ones, like this:

But also the rosette of this Honey Rose (it's edible!):

Nature gives us so many gifts... 

with so much love.. 

 

bumps and turns

We are experiencing a few bumps along our path here at Steffi's House. Let's start with this morning: Millie woke me up at 5:40. Lick lick, wag wag. For a second, I consider putting her in her crate, but decide that she is old enough just to wait until I'm ready to get up. She'd been out at 10 pm. She can wait until 6:30 or even 7. I roll over and fall asleep again.

I get up at 7. Millie is under the bed. Well that's okay! Good girl Millie.

Not so fast. When we finally do go downstairs...

 Millie in sunlight)

 

 

...I smell that bathroom smell and sure enough, she'd gone to the bathroom. On the bathroom floor. I have to smile. She'd seen me go there -- it's an obvious solution for her when mommy Nina refuses to get up and walk with her. Still, we start the morning with a clean up. I then canvas the rest of the house to make sure there are no other surprises. All good. We go out, she poops again. Ah, a tummy upset. Too much excitement?

Breakfast: I switch gears now. From Millie, to my friend who is not well. 

 

 

 

I need to stop by and visit, but when? I have a much delayed car maintenance appointment at 9. That means I have to take Millie to doggie day care earlier, even though I know she needs a good morning rest. Ah well, I'll pick her up as soon as my car is ready.

And on the way, I attend to my ailing friend, briefly. Big bumps there. Smooth road not visible yet. Will it ever be visible? Sure, unless we all careen off the cliff of life and fail to wear seatbelts in the process.

And speaking of seatbelts, I then go to the car place to leave my Alpine Blue car for servicing. And to put in an order for a seat belt replacement. Henry had thoroughly destroyed the back belt. Time to get that fixed. I am given a loner for the day -- a beautiful 2026 Subaru, with bells and whistles. I love that the side mirrors flicker when there is a car in the dead zone! Oh capitalism! How you like to mess with people's wants and desires! (No, I'm not getting a new car. You don't miss that, which you do not have. Except when they give you a loaner that's spiffy clean, has not a single sticky piece of food stuck in some hidden crevice in the back, and has a light that goes on when someone is in your blind spot.) 

For once I have a quiet day. I still have 6 plants (well, maybe seven) that need to go in, but they're not here yet, thus gardening is at a standstill. It may rain later, so I am holding off on watering. 

I feel drained. 

Ed asks to meet up for lunch at Tati's Yes! 

Then? More calls, conversations, consultation. I do pause to rip out some sod. Digging away at something tough can be good for you.

(roses in bloom...)

 

 

In the late afternoon, the car service people call to tell me that the car needs more work and the seatbelt wont be in until Friday at the earliest and yes, I can keep the loaner until then.

The thing is, I forgot to stop over at the service place to pick up Millie's car seat and so I arrive at Happy Dogz in this spiffy new car that smells like a car straight off the factory floor, without a familiar place for her to rest. The girl is not a fan of car rides under the best of circumstances. I put her in the front seat so that I could keep an eye on her and rub her ears with my right hand. 

She trembles the whole 18 minute ride home. Poor pup -- no soothing words help. It is all just too strange for her. 

At home, I make chili. I haven't been doing dinners lately and I'm beginning to think that I am not feeding myself well (except for breakfast!). A pot of chili, even split with Ed, will give me at least four or five dinners of solid food. 

Millie rests, and me -- well, I try to think about my roses. 

  

..And about Millie. All the way until I deem it late enough to go upstairs. She loves this routine: outside, stairs. bathroom, bed. So familiar! Not like a dumb car that has absolutely no familiar scent attached to it. Yes, Millie, but it has these flashing lights on the side mirrors! Millie looks at me seemingly with pity. They say doodles are very judgy. Maybe, but I see compassion in those lovely brown eyes...

with so much love... 

 

pause

(Millie, trying hard to use up the entire bed; she has quite the stretch!)

 

Another pretty August day!

However. When you have a close friend who is not feeling well, you put on hold thoughts about good weather, rose garden ideas, lovely moments of peace on a beautiful morning, outside. Oh, you still have breakfast. Outside in fact. With roses in a cup and roses in a pot.

 

 

 

 

 

But your mind is on logistics -- how to help here, how to deal with that, what's a good path forward under the circumstances. This is very different from yesterday's problem solving, where there were obvious solutions with strategies on how to achieve them. Change the drain pipe, build a swale. When a friend has taken a sharp turn for the worse, solutions aren't necessarily your primary concern. Finding good professionals, doctors, whatever -- yes there is that. They'll take care of the medical aspects of the situation. You have to figure out what your role can be outside of treatment. You'll tell me -- be supportive! Easy to say, right? Exactly how -- this is something you have to figure out, one day at a time. Making mistakes along the way.

I have many very long conversations on the phone today, consulting about all this. 

 

I booked a half day for Millie at Happy Dogz. Yesterday, the groomer said she was extremely playful with the other doodle who was there for a trim. She told me that this seems to be in the nature of all doodles. I would certainly agree that Millie's defining characteristic is that she wants to play. No, this does not mean she needs a playmate pup at home. Home is her place to pause and regroup, and attend to other things in life -- rest, eat, learn, cuddle. But she is a social creature and she is extremely active. A half day with her friends is a far better option than a quick trip to the dog park. It's worth the drive, right Millie?

 

 

 

In the meantime, I have work to do. Outside, inside and of course, there is all the stuff going on with my friend. Millie plays with Adie and Oliver (her two best friends at day care), I attend.

 

In the evening Ed comes over with fresh corn from Stoneman's Farm. That's a good thing -- I'm low on groceries, low on cooking enthusiasm, low on supper ideas. Corn, nuts, a salad. Good enough! 

with so much love...