Writing is Like Swiffering Away the Cob Webs

We purchased our current home thirteen years ago.  We live in an age restricted community, what they advertised as Active Adult.    I like living here.
Wow, I think that’s the first time I have admitted that.  Or I should say, the first time that I realized I actually do like living here.  I say that because I have spent the past almost all of those thirteen years wishing we lived somewhere else.  Or up until today, I thought that I wanted to live somewhere else.
Writing does that for me.   When I sit down to write, what I am actually doing is organizing my scattered thoughts so that I can communicate them clearly.   This mindfulness housekeeping that I occasionally feel the compulsion to do is like taking a Swiffer to the dusty unattended corners of my brain.  As I swipe, pushing away the cobwebs,  I may, now and again, find a hidden treasure.
Usually, almost always in fact, I start off  with a specific idea in mind, but then, I seem to end up going down an entirely different path.
For instance, like today.  I wanted, no, I thought I needed to blurt out and bluster about stuff.  Particularly the hard stuff.  Stuff that has been lurking and needling me for the whole of this so far miserable winter.
To explain my AhHa moment, the one where I came to the startling conclusion that I do like living where we live, I must provide a little background information.

We live on the main drag of the complex.  The den, which is where I write, is probably the reason we bought this particular home.  It has two large almost floor to almost ceiling windows which fill the room with plenty of natural light.  The view immediately out of the window is of the sidewalk and the street.
Although, my desk and computer face a wall and my back is to the window, the flutter of a cardinal-red wing or a glimpse of a slicker-yellow sleeve catches my eye and I  frequently find myself turning towards the window.
Just on the other side of the street is what I like to call “the pond”. It’s really a retention, (or is it detention?) basin.   Because it temporarily retains (or does it temporarily detain?) water, the pond can sometimes just be an empty field.  It is in constant flux.  When it is a pond, it attracts ducks, geese, gulls and sometimes even a heron.
The field is home to grazing deer.  There are two wild cats who live in the field.  One is Orange the other is Black.  Their fur is winter thick now.
Yesterday,  as I tried to snap the Orange’s picture, he scurried down the possum’s hole.  How interesting, I thought,  that a possum and a cat share such a space.
I wonder if possums hibernate.
Pines and maples and firs sit on the banks of the pond.    When I walk along the white fence which surrounds the area,  my ears perk up to the calls of jays, the caws of crows and the chirps of little brown wrens.
I like to take my camera when I wander over to the sometimes field, sometimes pond.  It’s quiet and quite peaceful there.   It’s where the sun spectacularly sets in the evening.
So, today, when I sat down to write my prickly piece about what it feels like to live in an age restricted, rule ridden, you can’t have bird feeders on your property community,  I noticed a red headed bird on the feeder (that we’re not supposed to have) just outside of my window.

  As I watched the bird chomping on a sunflower seed, I noticed the Black slinking across the street heading to the field/pond. Our neighbor, who walks with a limp, but always walks every day, no matter what, passed by in his yellow slicker.


Then the clouds began to break up.  Shards of sunlight shone through the ceiling to almost floor length windows brightening up what was supposed to have been a full day of grayness.
And that’s when I had my moment of Zen.

Life and Juno

Life and Juno

Let’s start with life.
Just as we were beginning to settle in for our long winter’s night, after the hustle bustle of the holidays, and just after I forlornly felt sorry for myself, anticipating the boredom of said long winter’s night, Life smacked us across the face with a “What were you thinking?!”
We were hanging out, it was a couple of weeks ago, January 16th to be exact. It was a quiet, peaceful, relaxing kind of day. I was sitting in my cozy knitting chair, knitting, of course.  I don’t remember what Ross was doing.  But I do remember the next few hours quite vividly.
He came out of the kitchen, stood over me and said he didn’t feel right.  He didn’t look right either.
One thing about Ross, he is usually a calm and steady person.   At that moment, he wasn’t either of those.
I could see he was panicking.  I told him to sit.  I tried to get him to regulate his breathing.
He couldn’t.  I asked if he wanted me to call 911.  He shook his head yes.
One thing about me, although I appear on the outside to be a calm and steady person, on the inside I am a web of tightness.   But that day, I surprised myself.  I remained calm inside and out.
The ambulance came pretty quickly.  Although, while we were waiting, it seemed like forever.
As the EMT guys strapped Ross onto the gurney, I told him that I would be right behind him and that he was going to be okay.  And I wasn’t just saying that.  I knew that he would be.
When I walked  into the hospital emergency room lobby, I thought about how different these new emergency rooms are.  I have been in many.  Only one or two times as a patient, but many times as the accompanying person.
This one looked like the lobby of a fancy hotel.  The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was. There was no one yelling, “Nurse! Nurse!”  There was no chaotic commotion.
The fire in the modernist fireplace was warm,  soothing and quite mesmerizing.
I walked up to the desk and told the pleasant young woman why I was there.  She told me to have a seat, while she checked to see if Ross was settled in yet.
What?  Wait a minute.  I’m this guy’s wife.  He was just rushed here in an ambulance.  You want me to take a seat and you will be right with me?
I took a seat.  A seat where I could see her clearly.  Stare at her in fact.  Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone!   She shuffled some papers around.
Oh, one of the other things that I found myself staring at was the revolving door in this Hotel/Emergency room lobby.  There were gift shop items displayed on shelves which were on the inside of the door.  As the door kept going around and around, the hand made knitted items caught my eye and I was distracted for a moment or two.  I would go back and forth, first starting at the Checker lady and then back to the turning door.
Finally, she picked up the phone.  I’m sure it was only a matter of minutes, but it seemed like forever.
A nice volunteer lady escorted me “back”.  As we passed through the set of hospital double doors,  I realized I wasn’t in Oz anymore.  It was like walking onto a movie set.  Lights, camera action!
The chaos, commotion, the old woman screaming for the nurse, this was the real emergency room.
I have to say, the staff was very nice.  Even if they were “sorry we ran out of pillows.”
After we were there for the obligatory six hours, the doctor, who by the way looked like this was his 24th hour on duty, asked Ross for the fourth time to describe why he was brought in.   He also asked Ross for the fourth time if he had a regular Cardiologist.  And Ross told him for the fourth time that he did.  But I guess the fourth time was the charm because Dr. said, “Hey why don’t I give him a call.”
So the diagnosis turned out to be Afib (Arterial Fibrillation).
His symptoms were classic:

• Palpitations (feelings that your heart is skipping a beat, fluttering, or beating too hard or fast)
• Shortness of breath
• Weakness or problems exercising
• Chest pain
• Dizziness or fainting
• Fatigue (tiredness)
• Confusion

This was the first time he had ever experienced this.   He was treated in the ER with medication and his heart went back into its natural rhythm.

The ER doc wanted to keep him overnight for observation.  I asked how long it would be before he would be checked into a room.  Doc didn’t know if there were any beds available.  

Ross said, “I know I have a bed waiting for me at home."

Ross signed a release, (his cardiologist was going to see him first thing in the morning) and we went home.

In the next couple of weeks, Ross is scheduled for various heart testing.  

I told him he is going to be okay.  I know he is.

Life. 

Juno, The Worst Snow Storm Blizzard in The History of the World, just wasn’t.

Our Christmas Day Hero To The Rescue

For the Record:
The Twenty Fourteen Winter Holidays
Part IV - The Gatherings
December 21 - Domani’s Christmas Pageant 
December 24 - Christmas Eve at Elaine and Al’s
*December 25, 2014 Our Christmas Day Hero
December 26 - The Day After Christmas Christmas Turkey Dinner 
December 26, 27, 28 -  Bella Spends Time With Us
December 28 - The All Get together in Franklin Park
January 1,2 - Jimmy, Tara, Kenny and Ty Stay Over 

*A Christmas Day Hero
December 25, 2014

Ross & I  spent the actual Christmas Day, together, just the two of us.   
So, we figured we might as well get as much of the cooking done ahead of time for the Day After’s gathering as we could.   
Around about 2:00, after spending all of the morning and half of the afternoon in the kitchen, and after I had peeled 5 lbs of potatoes, and the sink was filled with skins, I turned on the garbage disposal.  
The disposal profusely protested with a loud burping noise and the sink began to fill up with a grayish, brownish, mushy mess.   I turned off the disposal and then stubbornly turned it back on.  The disposal sneered at me.  No kidding it did.  
We plunged, I bailed, switched the disposal on and off, on and off.   The drain bubbled and  hiccuped a few times, but the swirling mess would not go down.
By now it was 3:00.  Ross put a call into our plumber - on Christmas Day.  Well, you know how that turned out.   He began to go down the list of phone numbers of the other local guys - on Christmas Day.  Well, you also know how that turned out.  We left messages pleading.  I admit I did exaggerate the number of people we were expecting.  And I kind of fudged the fact that our dinner was for this day and not the next.  But it was Christmas Day.  No responses. 
Then I googled - “emergency plumbing” and found this:

Rooter Man

I called the number and a nice human lady voice answered.  She pleasantly and empathetically said she could have someone out to us within the hour.   
About an hour later, two plumbers showed up and had our sink snaked out by 6:00.  

So for the rest of the night, as we finished up the preparations for the Day after Christmas Christmas Day Dinner, the words to this famous Christmas Carol played over and over in my head:

Call Roto-Rooter, that’s the name, and away go troubles down the drain…Roto-Rooter!