August 27th. It’s a busy day. Up at the crack of dawn, which is a hair past seven these mornings. Gotta sip a cuppa with the newspaper out on the lanai under the fan whirling overhead at full speed. Every day it’s the same at daylight….80 degrees and 80% humidity. Another 80-80 morning.
Naturally, there’s my 40 minute workout followed by another 40 minute recuperation period, usually playing Sudoku or Mahjongg solitaire online. I am addicted and I abhor it. I am having arguments with myself while BH is reading The Wall Street Journal and other sources of intelligence.
But, I move into gear when I hear a beep. Got a message. It’s the Pamaro Furniture Shop. The sideboard will be arriving at 3. This is not as exciting as the birth of my new granddaughter a week ago, but…..I can’t wait!!! It’s part of the Great Makeover. Costco, I love you, and you were there when I needed you six years ago but, now, I want to do it my way.
So that countertop dining set that seats eight left last week and the new coastal set for six arrived. Think white distressed round table and woven seagrass chairs. Of course, there’s a new rug to replace the stained one we could never clean. Never thought to look on its underside where it explicitly stated it had to be dry cleaned. What was I thinking? I have never sent a rug to the cleaners and I’m not in my eighth decade starting now!
Ahhhh….the sideboard. I love how it looks, but I love the storage even more. I am a clean lines kind of girl. I like when everything has its place and I don’t have to look at those cluttered counters and tables. But, first I have to clean.
I hate cleaning but when I’m on a tear, I get ridiculously anal. I’m in a race to get it all done before the furniture guys get here. That means cleaning the baseboards, the window sills, the plantation shutters, changing the rug, vacuuming, washing the floor, measuring the wall where it will be placed. I morph into a cleaning lunatic.
And, then, I am in agony regretting my age and take a few ibuprofen, hoping I’ll be able to move again before the day is over. It is then that I remember another reason today is so special. Louise Penny’s latest in her Detective Gamache series is finally out!! As far as detective series, she is my all time favorite! This is #15. Later, I’ll be hanging out at the village of Three Pines in southern Canada with my old friends, Clara, Merna, Ruth and her duck, Rosa.
Before that can happen, there’s the yard. It’s relentless. It’s a jungle out there and after four weeks on the road, it took me days to gather my courage to attack it. Now, I’ve got a plan. Every evening around 7, I get out there armed with my clippers, trowel and rake. I set a goal like lop the dead fronds off the pygmy palms or dig up the weeds in the beds on one side of the house or trim the bougainvillea which is now higher than the pool cage or power wash the mold off the lanai.
Forty minutes later, I just want to jump in the pool in my clothes. I’m covered with sweat and have no energy to change into a swimsuit. More ibuprofen, please.
You may ask, where’s BH? Well, he is out there cleaning up all the stuff I’ve trimmed which is enough to fill at least three garbage barrels. He’s the one mopping the floors. He’s the one who keeps all the container gardens in perfect order.
And, he’s the one who loves to go to Home Depot or Lowe’s and fill shopping carts full of penta plants, ixoras, scheffleras and a myriad of other plants to add to the jungle we’ve got growing out there. That was his goal today. Get more plants in the ground. Oh, and, of course, get a dozen fresh donuts from our local bakery. We love our plants, and, yes, we’re nuts!
It is exactly six o’clock. I have one hour to return to the village of Three Pines before I put on my gardening gloves. Another beautiful day comes to an end.
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Kerry Ann
Just over 18 months ago, I got a call from Kerry, “I’m in the fight of my life. I was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.” I’m forcing myself to be calm, not scream about the unfairness of it, just stay in the moment with her as she tells me her story.
She is one of my dearest friends, a former colleague who sat with me through way too many boring principal and assistant principal meetings trying not to crack each other up with the inanity of it all. Of course, we were highly unsuccessful. She always had this mischievous gleam in her eye and a smile that could light up the universe. From the moment we met, we felt like kindred souls thrown together to weather whatever entered our paths.
After 30 years in education, she retired in June of 2017. About six months later after inexplicably losing weight, she got the diagnosis. She was 58 years old. Too young. No family history. Random. My own sense of it is that she was under tremendous stress and had to retire. She just didn’t have the energy to continue. I think she’d been sick a long time but it was hidden deep in her body. Bottom line. It just sucked.
But, this girl was a true warrior and, blessedly, married to a man’s man who turned out to be the most loving and compassionate caregiver I have ever witnessed. They faced all the doctor’s appointments and chemo treatments together as a team.
When she lost her gorgeous blond hair, she got a wig that made her look like she was 20 again. Head scarves? I swear she had one for every outfit. As she lost weight, she went shopping in Bloomingdales or Nordstroms.
Team Kerry set goals. “I just want to be able to live through summer.” “I want to get up to my family’s cabin in Wisconsin one more time.” Two months before she passed, she flew to her daughter’s law school graduation in Orlando and from there to see the birth of her second grandchild in Illinois.
The woman was heroic. Down to only 76 pounds, she dressed to the nines for that graduation and wore high heels that I haven’t been able to wear in about three decades. Even as her health was deteriorating, she maintained that beautiful smile and twinkle in her eye.
In February, she and her Steve flew to the west coast of Florida to visit us and then on to Marco Island where she met her daughters. She was all about the beach. While she was there she texted me pictures of her with her girls, all in their skimpy bathing suits. She just didn’t care about vanity. She didn’t care that people were staring at her. She was thrilled to have a few days on the beach with her girls, knowing that in all probability, it would be their last.
For her, it was all about joy. Grabbing those moments and holding them close. And, yes, she sought out the Mayo Clinic and immunotherapy and other treatments that may have added days, months, even years to her life. But, realistically, she knew the chances were pretty small.
Earlier this year, she said she knew she was living on borrowed time. And, on July 21st, the time ran out. A few days before, she had her daughter call me. She wanted to FaceTime. Stupidly, I protested saying I’d just gotten up and hadn’t brushed my hair.
But, of course, I did and there she was lying in bed at her beloved Shady Side home overlooking the West River, barely able to whisper, “I just want to tell you how much I love you….we’ll always be sisters.” “Oh, yes,” I replied, “we will meet again, my love.”
And she left us. She left a legacy of a life well lived and a legacy of how to face the worst adversity with grace, courage, dignity and honesty. One in a million. I miss you, girlfriend.
She is one of my dearest friends, a former colleague who sat with me through way too many boring principal and assistant principal meetings trying not to crack each other up with the inanity of it all. Of course, we were highly unsuccessful. She always had this mischievous gleam in her eye and a smile that could light up the universe. From the moment we met, we felt like kindred souls thrown together to weather whatever entered our paths.
After 30 years in education, she retired in June of 2017. About six months later after inexplicably losing weight, she got the diagnosis. She was 58 years old. Too young. No family history. Random. My own sense of it is that she was under tremendous stress and had to retire. She just didn’t have the energy to continue. I think she’d been sick a long time but it was hidden deep in her body. Bottom line. It just sucked.
But, this girl was a true warrior and, blessedly, married to a man’s man who turned out to be the most loving and compassionate caregiver I have ever witnessed. They faced all the doctor’s appointments and chemo treatments together as a team.
When she lost her gorgeous blond hair, she got a wig that made her look like she was 20 again. Head scarves? I swear she had one for every outfit. As she lost weight, she went shopping in Bloomingdales or Nordstroms.
Team Kerry set goals. “I just want to be able to live through summer.” “I want to get up to my family’s cabin in Wisconsin one more time.” Two months before she passed, she flew to her daughter’s law school graduation in Orlando and from there to see the birth of her second grandchild in Illinois.
The woman was heroic. Down to only 76 pounds, she dressed to the nines for that graduation and wore high heels that I haven’t been able to wear in about three decades. Even as her health was deteriorating, she maintained that beautiful smile and twinkle in her eye.
In February, she and her Steve flew to the west coast of Florida to visit us and then on to Marco Island where she met her daughters. She was all about the beach. While she was there she texted me pictures of her with her girls, all in their skimpy bathing suits. She just didn’t care about vanity. She didn’t care that people were staring at her. She was thrilled to have a few days on the beach with her girls, knowing that in all probability, it would be their last.
For her, it was all about joy. Grabbing those moments and holding them close. And, yes, she sought out the Mayo Clinic and immunotherapy and other treatments that may have added days, months, even years to her life. But, realistically, she knew the chances were pretty small.
Earlier this year, she said she knew she was living on borrowed time. And, on July 21st, the time ran out. A few days before, she had her daughter call me. She wanted to FaceTime. Stupidly, I protested saying I’d just gotten up and hadn’t brushed my hair.
But, of course, I did and there she was lying in bed at her beloved Shady Side home overlooking the West River, barely able to whisper, “I just want to tell you how much I love you….we’ll always be sisters.” “Oh, yes,” I replied, “we will meet again, my love.”
And she left us. She left a legacy of a life well lived and a legacy of how to face the worst adversity with grace, courage, dignity and honesty. One in a million. I miss you, girlfriend.
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