Sabbatical

I left work this evening, and I won't be going back until November 30th. I'm on sabbatical. When I started working at my current job, about 10½ years ago, they offered four weeks of "bonus vacation" after 10 years of employment, to be taken alongside (if I recall correctly) two weeks of your regular vacation, which you had to accrue. A few years ago, we unionized and now, in our collective bargaining agreement, we are eligible for "bonus vacation" after seven years, making it a true sabbatical. And I think it's a bit more flexible about how much of your regular vacation you have to accrue. The change came a bit late for me, but I'm not complaining. Sabbatical, bonus vacation, whatever, it's just great.

It will be seven and a half weeks off from work. Some of the time, I'll spend in California. In about a week, I'm going to drive down to Big Sur, California, and spend two weeks at the New Camaldoli Hermitage. As the word "hermitage" implies, it's a place for solitude, silence, reflection, and prayer. It's a remote location, where there's no internet access or mobile phone coverage. I am going to take along books, including a Bible, notebooks and pens, knitting and needlepoint. And a coffee maker. 

I'm consciously keeping my expectations modest about how it will be to spend that time there. I hope and trust it will be beneficial to my mental, emotional, and spiritual health—and indeed for my physical health as well—but I am not relying on any visions, ecstasies, or revelations. Besides, those might freak me out. I think it will be kind of like a spa for my soul.

After my time at the hermitage, I will drive to San Jose, California, and spend some time with my sister and her husband. That, too, I expect will be restful and restorative.

It ain't just a river in South America

I’ve been putting together a playlist for my own enjoyment. It consists of favorites of mine that I know well, which is fortunate because Amazon Music Prime will not let me listen to most of them. I buy them, generally at $1.29 per song, and download them to my own device, and then I listen to them.

I started Prime membership many years ago. For $25 a year, I got free shipping on my orders and access to certain movies and music. Now, Prime costs $139 per year. I get that inflation is a scourge right now, but today’s price is five times greater than the original price and, from my perspective, I get less for more.

At twilight

Some days are harder than others. This week, my days are feeling long and tiring. I find myself going back to a phrase I used years ago during a difficult time. When I got up in the morning, I would say to myself, “Live through the day. That’s all you have to do. Just live through the day.” 

Though the heart be weary, sad the day and long, still, at twilight, I’m here.

Huh?

Harry Belafonte died earlier this week. May he rest in peace. My sister posted on Facebook a link to him on the Muppet Show, singing the Banana Boat Song.

One day at work, a couple years ago, a co-worker used the word banana in conversation, and I was reminded of an article I'd recently read saying that Alan Arkin was one of the writers of the Banana Boat Song. I told him about that. First I had to help him know who Alan Arkin is. (My co-worker is young.) Then I had to sing a few bars of the song to call it to his mind. Then I told him that, contrary to what one might assume, Alan Arkin helped write it.*

My co-worker acknowledged (politely) that this was an interesting story but wondered why I told it. I told him because you said banana. Turns out he had actually said Indiana, not banana. Oh. 

So I said, well, there's a song about Indiana, too: Indiana Wants Me. He had never heard of it. (Again, young.) Later I sent him a link. Never say I have not contributed to that young man's education.

This mishearing thing happens not infrequently. It is cosmic payback. When my aged mother misheard things, she would ask, "Did you say such-and-such?" "Such-and-such" would be some ludicrous non sequitur (like banana instead of Indiana), and I would give her a look and answer, "Mom, is it likely I said such-and-such?" Now I'm saying "such-and-such" all over the place.

________________________________________________________________________________

*Looking this information up today, I find that Alan Arkin co-wrote a version of the Banana Boat Song, not the original song, when he was part of a folk-music group called the Tarriers. The song itself is a traditional Jamaican folk song, just as it seems to be.

Happy New Year and all that kind of stuff

Now the holidays have been and gone. Today was a company holiday for me. Since New Year's Day was a Sunday, we had Monday off. That's nice. Going back to work on January 2 feels rather abrupt. Christmas cheer, sentiment, carols, candles, family, and New Year's Eve noisemakers and champagne, followed by deranged sleeping on New Year's Day, and then BANG! It's a work day! Get up and get moving! So it was nice to have this 1-day cushion.

Not that I stayed up for the New Year this time around. I thought I might, but around 9:00 p.m. I felt sleepy so went to bed. When my mom was older, she would say she could celebrate the New Year at 9:00 p.m. Pacific time because at that moment it was midnight in the time zone where she was born, on the East Coast. I was born in Seattle, so that doesn't work for me.

My fearless defender from things that go boom in the night.

As it happens, I did wake up around midnight because people in the area were sending up fireworks, and my dog Benedict felt obligated to bark at them. But I didn't really wake up fully and was soon asleep again.

I'm glad that two weeks from today we'll have another holiday (Martin Luther King Day). That will ease us in a tad more easily than an endless-seeming stretch to Presidents Day in February. I seem to recall, from my time studying at Regent College, that Canadians get a Monday holiday pretty much every month. That sounds just jim-dandy to me. We need breaks. I've seen a meme about how medieval serfs got rest days for enough religious holy days so that they had more days off than the average American employee. 

This spring, I will turn 62. That is the youngest age at which one can start receiving Social Security retirement. I don't think I'll retire on the dot, but I will always be conscious that I could retire any time I want to. Actually, I want to, but when will it be propitious? I have some major purchases I want to make before I reduce my income so drastically: a love seat for my living room, two new doors for the room I have dedicated to being a library (with windows in the doors, so the southern exposure can benefit the adjoining areas), a screen door so I can get fresh air when it's pleasant outside, a new dishwasher because the one I have is kaput, a new thing over the stove (what's it called?) because the ventilation fan in mine is broken. Possibly an update to the pump system down here that sends my waste water up to street level. 

Geez, maybe I'll be working till I'm 95. But I'll always know I could retire if I want to. I heard a speaker once who said you should have a Plan B for your income so that you don't feel trapped in your Plan A employment. 

Ready or not

 'Tis the season...of Advent. It's a season of preparation for Christmas, as Lent is a season of preparation for Easter. Like Lent, it's a penitential season, and the liturgical color is purple. The advent wreath candles are purple, except for the third one, which is rose. Both Lent and Advent have a rose-colored Sunday, a break in the mournful mood. 

For Advent, the third Sunday is Gaudete Sunday, and, in Lent, the fourth Sunday is Laetare Sunday. Gaudete and Laetare are both translated as Rejoice. Gaudete comes from St. Paul's exhortation, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice!" Laetere comes from the prophet Isaiah's instruction, "Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her, all you who love her."

But I am still in the first week of Advent, a purple (or violet) week. I went to mass and saw the Advent candle lit there, and I also have, for many years, had an Advent wreath at home. In this picture of my Advent wreath, two of the purple candles look pink, while the rose candle (across from the lit candle) looks purple or gray.

In real life, the colors were correct. The center, Christ, candle is white. It is lit on Christmas or Christmas Eve. 

I've heard of Catholic Churches having a midnight mass, so that it starts just as Christmas Day starts. I don't know if St. Joseph, my parish church, does that. Last year at Christmas I was mostly missing church because my depression and anxiety made it hard for me to go anywhere. I still have some level of that issue, just not as severe.

On this first Sunday, the Scripture readings were about the coming of Christ in glory—the Second Coming. His first coming was in humility, with his glory veiled. At his second coming, his glory will be revealed. That's what the word apocalypse means—revelation. And the word advent means coming.

During Advent, we prepare for both comings of Christ. The readings this Sunday focused on the need to be alert for the Second Coming. No one knows the hour or the day* when Christ will return, so we just have to always be ready. It could happen at any moment, any day now. We need to keep that in mind.

I can't honestly say I feel prepared, if being prepared means achieving a high degree of sanctification. When you are expecting guests, you prepare by cleaning your house. When I am expecting guests, I become anxious and stressed out and accomplish nothing. But I ask some loving members of my family for help, and they come over and clean. In terms of preparing for Christ's coming, I am as effective as I am in preparing for guests. Fortunately, I can ask for help there, too, and that's what I'll have to rely on. 

That's why one of my dearest Bible verses is, "A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out." This little light of mine is so very little—a smoldering, dimly burning wick, but he won't snuff it out. 

*During the 1990s I talked with a young woman who listened to and believed a radio evangelist names Harold Camping, who was predicting when Christ would return. I started to quote this verse to her, and she interrupted me, "I know, I know. No one knows the day or the hour, but he knows the month and the year." As it turned out, he didn't.

Mystic sweet communion

Well, I did not make it to All Souls. I had to work at my office in Bellingham that day, which meant a half-hour drive home, 5:00-5:30, and the service started at 6:00, so I would have been home for 15 minutes and left again. Days with a commute are also more tiring. I decided already around 3:00 in the afternoon that when I got home I would stay home. All Souls is not a Holy Day of Obligation.

A few days later, I was mindful that it was the 16th anniversary of my oldest brother's death. Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen. Praying for and being in fellowship with my loved ones who have died was one of the things that attracted me to Catholicism.

A Catholic Facebook friend had this quote by Pope Benedict XVI on her page:

The belief that love can reach into the afterlife, that reciprocal giving and receiving is possible, in which our affection for one another continues beyond the limits of death — this has been a fundamental conviction of Christianity throughout the ages, and it remains a source of comfort today.

When my brother died, and later my parents, I missed them and I also still wanted to show my love for them. Catholic practice provides more room for me to be aware of my fellowship with them and to give love that they can receive.

Prior to being received into full communion with the Catholic Church, I felt this, but my own tradition did not address it. Catholics, in addition to praying for those who have gone ahead, also ask them to pray for us. While I was reading a Chaim Potok novel, I read a scene when a woman was talking to her dead brother and said, "Be an intercessor for me." I thought, if Jewish people do this, then I have more confidence in it, since Judaism was the faith that Jesus practiced. It indicated to me that the practice existed even prior to the Incarnation and was not a new invention by the church at some point in its history.

I always loved the verse in the hymn "The Church's One Foundation" that says:

Yet she on earth hath union

With God the Three in One,

And mystic sweet communion

With those whose rest is won.

"Mystic sweet communion" — I love it.

Hallows

I'm glad to say that I made it to church this evening for the service for All Saints. It was bilingual, English and Spanish. On Sundays, we have separate English and Spanish services. I suppose if not for Vatican II we could all be together in Latin. But I won't go there.

Days of the week

 I think I've mentioned how on Fridays I keep checking my phone, dashboard, and calendars to verify that it really is Friday, because it seems too good to be true. The odds against it are 6:1. Or would it be 7:1? Trying to figure that out would be like math.

But today is a Monday, and this evening I thought, "Is it really still Monday? Can it be?" Not that it's too good to be true but that it seems like it's been Monday for a long time. Too long. It's taking up more than its share of the week.

I'm feeling anxious (een beetje bang, as my great-grandfather would say) and a little down. Am I regressing back into my Slough of Despond? Am I far from the peaceful shore? Sinking to rise no more? I hope not.

My sister has a certain level of Seasonal Affective Disorder, and I probably do too. We are past the fall equinox, so our diurnal cycles contain more darkness than light. I'm surprised I'm feeling this (if that's what it is) because I hated this summer. It was hot and dry all the time. Yards and plants were dying of thirst, and it was unpleasant to be outdoors. Bleah. So I welcomed the coming of fall. Which was late in coming this year, by the way. Summer kept dragging on, outstaying its welcome by weeks. But now the increasing darkness is probably getting me down.

Also, as my sister also has observed, it's a sad time of remembrance for our family because my oldest brother died on November 4. I am not always conscious that this anniversary is looming, but they say your body remembers, even if you don't.

Tomorrow will be my first All Saints Day as a Catholic. And the day after that will be All Souls Day, which is a time to remember the faithful departed. I am still learning how to be a Catholic. My church is having mass at 7:00 p.m. on All Saints Day and 6:00 p.m. on All Souls Day. All Saints Day is a Holy Day of Obligation, meaning I have a duty to go to mass. 

In theory I should be able to make both services. The only obstacle is myself. Yesterday, I planned to go mass, but then I just couldn't get up. So now I am planning to go tomorrow evening and the evening after. I need to pray for the strength to go.

It's not mass in particular that's hard for me to attend. I have a great reluctance to go anywhere. This is why one of my verses of comfort is "he will not break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick." The prophet Isaiah says that (chapter 42, verse 3) about God's suffering servant, and the Gospel of Matthew repeats it (chapter 12, verse 20), applying it to our Lord. Indeed, there are many verses in the Bible about God's love and compassion for the weak. And I definitely fall into that category.

Even the great Apostle Paul said "I can will what is right, but I cannot do it" (Romans 7:18).

It's time for me to go to bed, but my puppy Rosamund is asleep on my foot, and that makes me not want to move. I'll browse the internet for a while.

Catching up

Long time, no blog. I did go through something along the lines of a nervous breakdown earlier this year. Thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, I've been climbing out of the hole. "If you're happy and you know it, it's your meds."

But the biggest and bestest happening in my life since my last blog post is the addition of a third puppy to my household. Meet Rosamund:

And here are the three canine siblings this afternoon, enjoying the gas heater stove:

That's Rosamund, Benedict, and Beatrice. That's all for now.

Another day, another chewed-up dollar

We had a little more snow today, which is one of those things that makes you say "ugh." It is forecast to freeze tonight and tomorrow night, but tomorrow day and the rest of the week it should be above freezing, which will allow the snow to melt. Rain most of next week, too, but that's normal for the Pacific Northwest. 

When one leads a fairly boring life, what else is there to write about than the weather? At least today I got up and stayed awake all day. I didn't do much other than browse the web and read a Georgette Heyer novel (A Civil Contract), but at least I wasn't snoring around the clock.

The most exciting occurrence was when my puppy Benedict got ahold of a paper piece of legal tender and started to chew it up. I was in the kitchen when I heard some crinkling and tearing noises. He often finds some piece of paper or a receipt or something and chews that up, but I just took a quick look and saw him destroying a large (to me) amount of money in the form of one bill. I yelled, "Noooo! No!" and ran to rescue it. Benedict ran in circles, evading my grasp, having a fun game of keep-away. We play this game a lot, when he chews on something that I'm worried will harm him, like a piece of foil or plastic, or a toothpick. The only way for me to win is to get him a treat. As soon as he sees me head that way, he drops whatever he has and runs after me. Beatrice comes running, too, because: treats. I don't hand it out until I find and confiscate what he was chewing on. In the case of a toothpick, that can be a challenge, but in the case of this piece of money I found it immediately, then gave them their treats. Little squares of freeze-dried beef liver. They love it.

Goofy little dogs.

Thrills and chills

2022 is off to a cold start, and 2021 had a cold ending. Christmas Day we had snow falling and the northeast wind blowing, to the point that my in-town and out-in-the-county family contingents had to meet separately, rather than drive through the drifts. We got together as one big group on January 2. 

We had more snow this week, and then some rain and snow mixed. The infamous wintry mix. Temperatures are hovering around freezing so that things melt then freeze again, making for smooth, slippery surfaces. The infamous black ice (actually, transparent ice, showing the black road surface underneath).

It was back to work this week, but then I was sick yesterday and today. Pretty much slept all day both days, and woke up a little while in the evenings. I feel quite cold right now; I don't know if it's because I'm having chills or because the cold from outside is seeping into the house. It will be good to get under a quilt again when I go to bed. I'm glad tomorrow is Saturday. I can sleep some more.

One's blog entry can't be very exciting when all one's done lately is sleep. So the "thrills" of my title is ironic, but the "chills" is for real.

My Christmas Playlist

 I've started listening to my Christmas playlist. A couple of years ago I searched out versions I liked of Christmas songs I like. For most of them, I bought the tracks from Amazon Music and downloaded them to my computer. So I have a file of 51 mp3 files and I just go there and click "Play All." The titles are sorted alphabetically, so usually that's how I listen to them. Here's the list:

1. Adeste Fideles (Latin)—Vienna Boys’ Choir
2. Adeste Fideles (English)—Londonderry Singers
3. All I Want for Christmas Is You—Mariah Carey
4. Angels from the Realms of Glory—Stephanie Hall Singers & the London Fox Players
5. Angels We Have Heard on High—Londonderry Singers
6. Away In a Manger—Joan Baez
7. Boar's Head Carol, The—The Robert de Cormier Singers and Ensemble
8. Break Forth, O Beauteous Heavenly Light—Not sure
9. Carol of the Bells (Choral)—Not sure
10. Christmas Song, The—Nat King Cole
11. Christmas Time Is Here (Instrumental)—Vince Guaraldi Trio
12. Christmas Time Is Here (Vocal) —Vince Guaraldi Trio
13. Coventry Carol—Benedictines of Mary, Queen of Apostles
14. Ding Dong Merrily on High—The Sixteen and Harry Christophers
15. Do You Hear What I Hear?—Bing Crosby
16. Ere Zij God—Dennie Christian
17. Feliz Navidad—José Feliciano
18. First Nowell, The—The Robert de Cormier Singers and Ensemble
19. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen—Londonderry Singers
20. Good King Wenceslas—Huddersfield Choral Society
21. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas—Judy Garland
22. Here We Come A-Wassailing—The Merrywood Singers
23. Holly and the Ivy, The—Choir of King’s College, Cambridge
24. Holly Jolly Christmas, A—Burl Ives
25. I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day—Harry Belafonte
26. I Saw Three Ships—Ambrosian Singers
27. I Wonder as I Wander—Joan Baez
28. I'll Be Home for Christmas—Bing Crosby w/John Scott Trotter & his Orchestra 
29. In the Bleak Midwinter—Susan Boyle
30. Jesous Ahatonhia—Carolyn Sinclair
31. Jingle Bells—The Ray Conniff Singers
32. Joy to the World—Eugene Ormandy
33. Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow—Dean Martin
34. Linus And Lucy—Vince Guaraldi Trio
35. Little Drummer Boy, The—The Harry Simeone Choir
36. Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming—Apollo’s Fire & Jeannette Sorrel
37. Mary's Boy Child / Oh My Lord—Boney M.
38. Mary's Boy Child—Harry Belafonte
39. O Holy Night—Samuel Ramsey
40. O Tannenbaum—Aeolian Kammerchor
41. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree—Brenda Lee
42. Silent Night, Holy Night—Julie Andrews
43. Silver Bells—Johnny Mathis
44. Sleigh Ride (Instrumental)—The Boston Pops Orchestra
45. Sleigh Ride (Vocal)—Johnny Mathis
46. Still, Still, Still—Libera 
47. We Three Kings—The Irish Tenors
48. What Child is This (Greensleeves)—Johnny Mathis
49. While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks—Ambrosian Singers
50. White Christmas—Bing Crosby
51. Winter Wonderland—Frank Sinatra

Pains and tweets

Still no second flood—hooray.

Yesterday I received a package from Amazon. It's a cushion I ordered to sit on, specially designed to alleviate and prevent tailbone pain. I sit so much for work and leisure that I was starting to have that—a real pain in the a**, har har. The cushion has that little notch cut out so that when you sit on it, your tailbone is above empty space and so has no pressure to make it start aching. I don't find these kinds of cushions attractive. That little cutout notch seems to announce, "Here's where your butt crack goes," which I feel is ungenteel. But comfort before fashion for me. It also acts as kind of a booster seat and puts me at a better angle to my keyboard, I think, So, all kinds of advantages.

Now I'm going to listen to my favorite podcast, The Rest Is History. I like the banter of the two British hosts, as well as hearing about their topics. They also each have a Twitter account and the show itself has a Twitter account, so I re-opened my Twitter account after having shut it down a few years ago. Twitter can become a depressing place. But I just follow these guys and their show and a few family members. 

High water

Well, Benedict is much bigger now than when I first posted pictures of him. Here he is about a month ago:

And here is little Miss Beatrice:

They spend a lot of time play-fighting. At least, I assume it's play and not real fighting. They tire each other out and fall asleep for a while, then wake up to renew the battle. Beatrice has outgrown the stage of chewing everything all the time (she now just chews some things some of the time), but Benedict is still in full chomping and chewing mode. 

I have been to California and back since my last post. I visited my sister for a few days and got to see her family.

We've been having excessive rain the past couple weeks. When someone from western Washington says it's a lot of rain, it's a lot of rain. We're on our third "atmospheric river" in as many weeks. The nearby Nooksack River flooded several towns in my county: Sumas, Everson, and Ferndale. It flooded them twice and my do so a third time. 

I was confident my creek would not flood because it has different sources than the Nooksack. The Nooksack is fed by mountain streams and snow melt, which my creek just wanders over from Canada at a lower elevation. Generally, as my dad told me, it only floods if we first get a lot of snow, then a thaw with rain, to put a lot of melted snow plus rain into the creek all at once. We weren't getting any snow, so I figured the creek wouldn't flood. It didn't flood the first time that the Nooksack did, but this past weekend, during the second atmospheric river (meaning a lot of rain coming in from the Pacific Ocean), it did overflow. Color me surprised. And, as it continued to rise, a little nervous. I always say, and it's true, that the water has never come up to the house, but a silent voice always adds "yet."

Still not yet, though. My back yard is a flood plain. The creek flows over it about once every three years or so. This on Sunday was the highest I've ever seen it. 

There was still a foot or so before it would reach the retaining wall, and then there was the wall. But I kept picturing water seeping in under my door. Sunday night I kept going out and using the flashlight function of my phone to look at the water. I was freaking out a little bit. But finally I said to myself, "It's either going to happen or not, and probably not. You can't do anything either way, so go to sleep." And so to bed. In the morning, it had receded quite a bit, although still quite swampy, but it was good to see the grass again.

Now we'll see what happens overnight tonight, as it's raining again. This rainfall is not predicted to be as much as the last two, but the ground is saturated and the waterways are full. It's dark now, but I will not go outside and look. I'll wait until tomorrow morning and see what it's like out there.

Ice and Fire and Cold Comfort

Starks at Winterfell

I recently started reading the Game of Thrones books, or rather Song of Ice and Fire. I think I'm in the third book. I'm reading them on my Kindle, so when I finish one the next one pops up as a recommendation. It occurred to me to read them because of a frivolous conversation at work. My co-workers were speculating that I would be very good at Trivia, but I pointed out I don't know a lot of recent cultural references, like Game of Thrones characters. Those show up sometimes in the New York Times crossword puzzles. I don't subscribe to the NYT, but I do subscribe to their crossword. Anyway, the next time I was considering what to read, I thought, Why not? So I started them.

They're pretty good. They move very, very slowly. I think one year of narrative has gone by since the beginning of the first book, and they are long books. Each chapter or section is a third-person limited perspective of a different character. So when you go to the next chapter, you may not go forward in time from the last one, just to a different viewpoint and locale.

Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm

The story starts at a castle or fortress called Winterfell, belonging to the Stark family. Speaking of frivolity, that made me think of the Starkadder family at Cold Comfort Farm, in the amusing novel (and movie) of the same name. Later, when the Stark father left his son in charge of the place, he said something like, "There should be a Stark at Winterfell," which made me think: "There have always been Starkadders at Cold Comfort Farm." I wonder if I'll come across something that will make me think, "I saw something nasty in the wood shed!" Funny only if you've read Cold Comfort Farm or watched the movie.

My growing family

When I adopted my mostly chihuahua puppy—her name is Beatrice, by the way—in August, I actually had wanted to get two puppies, but she was the only one available. So last month I went on Craigslist again and saw that a woman in Blaine had a litter of Chiweenies for sale. I did not have to look that up (as apparently some of my Facebook friends did) to know that meant a mix of Chihuahua and Dacshschund, aka Wiener dog. I texted her, made the deal, and that evening she brought him over.

Meet Benedict.

I wanted two dogs so they could be company for each other, especially while I'm away. My employer has recently told its employees that they plan to have us back in our offices by September y7. When I commute to and work in Bellingham, I'm out of the house for about nine hours.

My previous dog (rest in peace) had pretty severe separation anxiety. If left alone in the house, he chewed things, did his "business" in inappropriate places, and generally went crazy. For a while, I crated him while I went to work, but that was a sad thing to do. In 2017, when I had to live in a hotel for months on end while my home was repaired from water damage, I could not leave him in a hotel room for fear he'd howl and bark all day. I started bringing him to "doggy daycare" at Hyline Hotel for Dogs, and he loved it. When I moved back into my house, I did not have the heart to start crating him all day again, so I kept bringing him there every day. He was much happier, so it was worth it, but it was a bit spendy. When was had a financial advisor come to work, I told my co-workers that I was spending my retirement money on my dog's day care.

My theory is that dogs, because they are pack animals, are not hard-wired to cope with solitude. It freaks them out to be alone. So, now, when I go back to the 9 to 5 slog, my dogs will not be home alone.

They are still getting used to each other. It is Beatrice who has to make the biggest adjustment. Benedicts is quite placid. He waddles around cheerfully on his rather short legs, eats heartily of his puppy food, chews happily on chew sticks, and takes frequent naps. Beatrice's attitude toward him ranges from indifference to jealousy. She is not a placid dog. She is nervous and yappy, and she prances around Benedict on her long, slender legs, poking her nose at him. She has a hard time settling down with me if I want to hold both of them. She wants to be the only one in my arms. But I think eventually Benedict will come up as the alpha dog because he dominates at the food bowl. When I put it on the floor, he walks up and wades in, and if Beatrice comes up he leans over the bowl and she backs away. I've started putting two bowls down, at some distance from each other, so that if Benedict is at one Beatrice can be at the other.

When I'm busy working at my desk, they do play with each other, in puppy fashion, fake-biting each other and lunging and rolling around. Sometimes they scrap over a toy. They actually do play tug-of-war with the knotted-rope tug toys I've gotten for them.

So I think that as they grow up, they'll fight and play, like siblings, and eventually settle down to each other. They bring a lot of interest and enjoyment into my life.

The moment her world changed.

 

Adventure Dog

 This morning, I tried out Door Dash and ordered a breakfast sandwich to be delivered to my door. (Aside: it took longer than predicted, I suspect because I'm in a small town and probably there weren't a lot of drivers lined up waiting for jobs. So, while initially my order was supposed to arrive in about half an hour, it arrived in an hour. I had opted to receive text updates, so I wasn't left wondering.) When it arrived, I opened my door and picked it up.

An hour or so later, I happened to catch sight of movement on my deck outside and looked to see if it was a cat or a squirrel. To my astonishment, it was my dog! Speaking of door dash, she must have dashed out the door when I opened it momentarily to get my food. I can't imagine how I didn't see her, but I didn't.

I went and opened the door and made calling noises and she came trotting inside. All that time, I'd thought she was asleep under a quilt. I wonder where she was during that hour. I guess I'll never know.

I'm glad she returned safely.

Comfort

About a week and a half ago was the fourth anniversary of my dad’s death. A couple things were circling in my mind about this. One was how, after my father died, sometimes I would sit and close my eyes and remember what it felt like just to sit in the same room with him. I felt at peace with him. He knew me, he loved me, he was glad I was there. Unconditional love. I felt like I had to imagine he was there to get the feeling in my heart. I thought it was something he was giving off, but eventually I came to think it really came from inside me—it was the love I felt for him that filled me. Of course, my love for him was because of his love for me.

As time goes by, I do this imagining less often, and the feeling of what it was like to be with Dad is harder to remember. But I started to think that since it was love coming from me, going outward that was the feeling I sought, I did not necessarily need to imagine being specifically with Dad. Perhaps I could fill up with love for God and enjoy His presence.

I used to sometimes wonder why my dad liked me so much because I don’t seem all that likeable to myself. This feeling of unlikeableness (word?) was a barrier in my relationship to God, because why should He like me? If anyone knew all my flaws, it would be Him. My dad knew me well, including my flaws, and he liked me. I had to believe that because I saw it happen. I knew it for a certainty. So if I can sit with my eyes closed and feel what it’s like to be in the presence of my Father in Heaven, surely I can know that He likes (and loves) me and is glad to have me with Him. I can let that love well up in me for Him. Let [me] then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence. He. 4:16.

And the fruit of such love for God must be love for the people around me. The summary of God’s law is: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Mt. 22:37-39. Love for God causes love for neighbors because, as the apostle John points out, God is love. I Jn. 4:16. Love is His command but also His consequence.

I’m so thankful to have an earthly father who has so well demonstrated the love of my Heavenly Father.

I hope what I’m writing doesn’t sound just like so much fake-pious jargon. My language is insufficient to the truth, although it also does suffice because God’s truth is simple enough to say simply—God is love—but so profound that our understanding of it can keep growing for a lifetime and never exhaust it.

May we be comfortable and at peace, loved and full of love in God's presence.

Still good

 Ah, well. We finally got the hard freeze that did in my calla lily.

I tell myself it’s no worse now than it would have been earlier, but it is a bit sad to see the bloom ruined.

So it goes.

At least my dog is still adorable. Here she is nestled in a quilt.

And here she burrowed into my sweater but didn't realize that part of her was still exposed to the open air.

Today is a bright, sunny day, though cold. We are predicted to have freezing nights for a number of days now, and some chances of snow flurries. I can't think the snow will stick, though, because the daytime temperatures will be in the 40s (Fahrenheit, of course). That's cold (to me) but it's not cold enough to keep snow from melting.

It feels like a good day to drink coffee. But then, every day feels like that to me.