Patty's Weblog

February 10, 2010.

Last night I sat at my computer and pressed play on a song on an album I'd just downloaded. Within 30 seconds I knew I'd listen to that song many times in the future and enjoy it each time. New music, new pleasures to look forward to.

5:45 am this morning It's bitter cold out but the three of us decided to go out anyway. Snow was everywhere. The light from my headlamp touched the snow on the ground, on the weeds, and threw back glittering lights, so surprising, so beautiful that I was amazed I didn't go out every cold snowy morning with the dogs. Surprises to look forward to.

Later this morning The new song came on while I was on the ellipticals and I was so glad that I had a excuse to jump around to the beat. I closed my eyes and enjoyed.

Late morning Laying in a folder at work is the Intent to Retire letter I had written last Friday. A big step. Is it really time? Am I really ready to leave this comfortable path?

Yes, let's go. I took the letter over to the office.

Yes! Freedom to come. And the new path is sure to hold simple pleasures and little surprises and moments to savor and plenty, plenty more.


(and thanks to Citizen Cope)

If dogs wore shoes, each morning I would have 8 shoes to find and match up to feet, after I laced my own 2 shoes. I appreciate the small ways of the world that make life a little easier.

5:45 a.m., July 14, 2009. Nature walk in the old X Bar 7 ranch. Out with the dogs, Lucy and Fox. As we start on the road a deer trots by, unseen by the dogs. I do not say a word, keeping them calm. Good thing, too, as we needed calmness for the rest of the strange walk.

Ahead is a sign, looks like a "lost pet" sign.





Oh, what is this? Someone lost their pet . . . Chainsaw! I have no idea what to make of this. Onward.



Fox pulls on the leash. Yuck, he is rolling on something. Fox goes into a trance.



Looks to be a snake, very dead. Probably killed by a car. (Or maybe a Chainsaw?)



On to the cow pasture at the fork in the road. In the past, we have noted upside down boots on the fence posts. We note a new addition today. Clueless as to what this is all about.





Facts, these photos record facts from this day's walk. Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

A rare late Friday afternoon, it is raining and I am just home and have the house to myself (except for the pesky animals). What to make for dinner? What to do with all the water flowing into the cisterns?

I shrug off my wet clothes and decide dinner comes first. I have no ideas. But I had carried in armfuls of fresh vegetables and they were strewn untidily about the kitchen. No order in this house at all. Soup, that's it. Let's make a soup.

Shallots first, shallots are always first. I heat some olive oil in a good small pot, chop some shallots, and dump them in. Next, leeks and fennel. The way leeks are put together fascinates me, the green and white in the rings are so pretty. Fennel, what an aroma even chopping it! They all go into the pot. I put another saucepan on the stove to boil some water to peel some tomatoes. (This soup is for me, and the extra step to remove the peels seems critical to the taste of the soup.)

What for the stock? Maybe chicken, maybe fish. I clamber down to the basement freezer to see what lurks there. Fish stock, good, it will microwave up fast. Do I have a couple scallops? No, but some shrimp, that should work. Back upstairs to nearly carmelizing shallots-leeks-fennel, into the microwave with the stock. Into the boiling water with the tomatoes.

What else? I have a sweet potato, why not? And a yukon gold, and some carrots. The stock, tomatoes, potatoes, and carrots all go in the pot. Seems lacking, so I chop a little parlsey and add it. Now, off to deal with the gallons of water rushing into the cisterns. Wrench in hand, I go out into the rain to work on the downspouts and leave the soup gently simmering on the stove.

A little later, thoroughly wet, I have to change clothes again. But the soup, the soup smells incredible! I make a salad of young greens topped with a little feta, proscuitto, zucchini, and the pretty radishes I found at Whole Foods. The soup needs a little something, so I shake in cayenne pepper and grind in black pepper and add some salt. I gather a couple shrimps and mix them with fresh cilantro. They won't go in until the last few minutes. I toast a couple slices of como bread and melt some cheese on them.

I look around and decide all is under control. Ah, now I can relax. I put the shrimps in the soup, pour a glass of wine and grab the salad. The dogs and cat and I gather on the couch. Sigh. I pick up the remote, wow, I actually get to hold it and choose my own channels! The stove and blankets warm us up, the rain beats down, the TV mumbles quietly. My salad is wonderful.

But the soup, the soup is perfect. Just perfect. Somehow I came up with just the right combination. I take a big whiff of the bowl of soup in my hands, then enjoy each spoonful, interrupted only by sips of wine, bites of bread, and pets for the menagerie on the couch.

Home, home again.

A laugh, a song, a face to the sun, a dance when no one is looking, a bike ride, a deep smile talking to a son, a sudden welling of sadness when a daughter leaves; you may not have known my mother, but if you know me, you know a little of what my mother was like.

On our walk this morning
the dogs and I and the full moon
I discovered
my moonshadow can dance.

She stood, forgotten cart blocking the aisle, fingers clutching a list, body drooping with years of small neglects, today she will buy a healthy treat, something good for her, but is that low-fat - low-carb - mega-protein - sugar free - contains honey - no preservatives - no caffeine - caffeinated - contains soy - 100% soy protein - omega 3 - ultra-energy - lactose-free - cholesterol-free - vegan - vitamins A and D - all natural - good tasting - taste not specified - name brand - generic, she can't find the one she bought years ago and liked, are there other places in the store where these are kept? with the dried fruits, with the diet supplies? her brain fills with white static, she can't make this decision, maybe she should listen to her daughter who urges her to move to the old peoples home, she will sit in a chair, eat watery jello, ignore the pills in a small paper cup put on her tray by the nurse (the nurse will talk behind her back: "how stubborn that woman is" "how fat"), she will stare at the white noise of a television, give up, let her body sink slowly to a halt, down to the earth, to the elements that formed it.

I allow myself guilt-free coffeecake for breakfast only a few days a year. Last Friday was one of those days. Thinking about the significance of the day, lines in a Pearl Jam song run through my head; I go to the computer to play them loud through the speakers

Later, I run a mile on the track, and then get on the elliptical machine, setting it a little different from the last time I'd used it. And yes . . . I'm still alive.


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We turn, happy to no longer be following the red taillights, a deep sigh of relief relaxing from my chest to my hands on the steering wheel and my foot on the gas pedal, anticipating the curves ahead. We know this road well, the car and I. I press down a little on the gas and the car responds with a surge of power and growl of engine; surely the silent electric cars of the future will envy us. I enjoy the play of the headlights, light not a disperse glare but a sharp, horizontal shelf of light that envelopes us to the left, the right, the front, touching on just the trunks of the trees, the posts of the fences, the leaves of the bushes, never rising enough to blind a person in an oncoming car; I watch the illuminated areas carefully for deer that would leap onto the road and spoil our fun. Coming to the first curve, I nudge the steering wheel, the car responds immediately, an extension of my own thoughts; a little more speed and now we flow back and forth, back and forth, tires hugging the curves like a camisole clinging to breasts.

After this romp, home awaits, but just now we live in the moment, savoring the turns of the night.

We walked, trees rustling in the pre-dawn, dog tags jingling, the full moon oblitering the stars, little dog's shadow trampled by his short legs, big dog's shadow stretching out from her feet and reaching back a prehensile nose to meet her real nose as it sniffs the ground, me waving at my shadow and wondering at the abyss of time and light from which it waves back at me.

A cumulative sentence inspired by the Building Great Sentences course by Brooks Landon.