REDONDOWRITER'S SACRED ORDINARY

Christmas Tree Redux: Every Day a New Beginning

Thank you so much to all of you who commented here about my fully decorated Christmas tree falling down last night--and baptizing my new wood floors with water from the defective tree stand. I did a major salvage job of the old tree, jury-rigged the tree stand, and dragged it into my TV room for redecorating tomorrow. 

Here is my first ever artificial tree which I bought this afternoon at K-Mart. I'm a "green" person and said I would never buy fake, but my old age and lessening stamina brought me to the crowded store to at least check the trees out. I loved this one and it was on sale. It is 6 feet tall and prelit. I can't believe that I will never have to string tree lights again in my lifetime. The box was pretty heavy but the very nice salesman told me that I would easily be able to handle it. It wasn't easily, but it was doable. I rarely read directions but I read them religiously as I did not want another disaster. I still have the house to decorate and the other tree to decorate, but the lights on the disaster tree somehow or other hung in there. 

Now I'm going downstairs to journal with gratitude. Another change has come to Villa Redondo and today I accept it gracefully. 

A Tree Disaster on the Fifth Day of Christmas

 This should have been the easiest tree I ever decorated. When I went to Lowe's yesterday I picked out my smallest tree ever, about 4 1/2 feet, so that I could totally work with it by myself. I got it in the house last night and put it in the tree stand in one location, which I didn't like. So, this morning I moved the furniture around and got it in front of the window on a table and I filled the tree stand with water. (Lesson #1: do not fill tree stand until everything is done.)  I dragged all the boxes of decorations up the stairs from the garage and then I went on a holiday homes tour with Orma and Kathy. 

When I got home, I decided to both watch the Texas-Nebraska game (sigh!) and decorate. I lit the fireplace and found that the lights this year were really, really difficult, but I got them done. In between football plays I began to put on my ornaments, always a memory journey for me because I have ornaments from my grandma, mom, all my kids growing up years, and from my travels over the years. I also always feel sorry for myself this time of year because Christmas decorating is so solitary with no husband and no kids (although, in hindsight, did they really help all that much? They did go with me to the tree lot and my ex always put on the lights. And they were in the house while I decorated. At least they were there.

It was a really exciting game, but I was going to sit down and exclusively watch it for the last five minutes. I sat and then I heard a crash. I turned around and there was the tree laying on the rug. The lights were on, broken ornaments and lots of water puddled all over my new hardwood floor. I quick shut the tree lights off and mopped up all the water, feeling totally devastated. Should I cry? Should I say some really awful swear words? Should I call my grandson Anthony pleading "my old grandma" routine? (It's Saturday night; what was I thinking.)

I watched the last exciting plays of the game, took some photos, and here I am complaining to you. I don't even know what I can do at this point. It appears the tree stand is broken, too. I won't get home from church and EfM until after 2 p.m. tomorrow and I still have to study my EfM lesson tonight. 

What does that author mean, "Don't sweat the small stuff?"  I realize that technically this is really small stuff--and I will laugh about it someday, like I did the time I cooked a turkey in a plastic bag and it exploded leaving shredded turkey all over the oven. 

But right now I feel very teary and tremendously overwhelmed. I guess I'll go study my old testament assignment. We aren't to Job yet, but it sure would be appropriate if we were. Where's my mommy? I want my mommy. 

Is There a Dog For Me Somewhere Out There?

My dog Cookie has been gone now for six weeks and my grieving is less consuming. But, I think about her all the time and miss her like crazy, especially at night. I have given away all her food and paraphanalia and yesterday I donated her expensive prescriptions to my vet. They use them for people who cannot afford to pay.  

Though I wanted to wait a lot longer before adopting another dog, I have begun to dream about dogs and all the different breed choices. 

Last night I began to do some research on the possibilities of fostering a dog from one of the local rescue non-profits, versus adopting. For practicality, I searched for smallish, adult dogs, good natured, good with kids since my little grandkids often visit. I'm afraid to actually go in to the shelters because I know I'm doomed if I do. With one exception, all my dogs throughout the years have been rescues. 

There are several rescue organizations within a few miles of where I live and most of them do both fostering and adoptions so I have e-mailed a few. 

Did you know that 319,249 adoptable pets living with shelters or rescue groups are posted on Petfinder? So many people are bringing their pets to shelters because they just can't afford to keep them, particularly if they have lost their homes or relocated. 

I looked at hundreds of dogs, but it's these two at Rover Rescue in Redondo Beach who have stolen my heart away. I wonder if either of them are available for fostering? 

This is Melody. 

This is Paige.  

 
  

To Diss or Undiss: That is the Question

When I went to leave a comment tonight on Judy's Imagine What I'm Leaving Out blog, my word verification was undiss and I started giggling.

When my teenage granddaughter and grandson were living with me a few years back, I began to learn all kinds of new words that hadn't been in my vocabulary before. Diss was one of them. This word supposedly came out of hip hop, although I'm not knowledgeable enough to verify that this is true. I was told it meant to disrespect someone or make them feel really crappy about themselves. The actual web definition at Princeton's Word Net Web  defines diss as "treat, mention, or speak to rudely; 'the student who had betrayed his classmate was dissed by everyone.'" My grandson told me that it also means to "disappear someone." 

When my grandkids were condescending or rolled their eyes to the sky after I said almost anything, I'd say, "Don't diss me." Disappear me symbolically--diss--is now part of my vocabulary when appropriate. I've also played around with the word disassociate and dismiss as being diss, too. OK, English majors, help me out here.

So, what does undiss mean? The opposite of diss? "I take that back; I didn't mean to call you a dork." Could it mean to lessen the distance between us? Could it be that I reappear you, associate you, miss you?

Do you have any modern slang words that you use sometimes, depending on your age, of course? I'll admit that I have used cool to describe something great since I was a teenager--and the kids at school still use that word. Is that mainstream now?

All this because I visited Judy's blog, which I recommend you visit, too. A floral artist, among other things, Judy is currently decorating several prominent N. Carolina buildings including the governors mansion. Her work is exquisite.

A Reflective Thanksgiving Weekend Filled With Stories and Memories

I've been off work for a week and a half, with only one day spent at school. I took this time to be aware of the people and stories swirling around me--and focused on my own story. I wrote a lot in my regular journal, devoted countless hours to the art journals, read, and allowed myself to have quiet time to just think. The latter is hard for me as I have a tendency to be a human doing. Too much thinking produces anxiety sometimes. 

On Friday I attended a funeral mass for a long-time acquaintance at St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Hawthorne. It was one of the largest funerals I have ever attended and Trudy's priest son, Fr. Jim Clarke, was the principal celebrant with 35 priests and deacons on the altar. Fr. Jim is one of my favorite priests. He always speaks to my heart. The Clarke's have 11 adult children, many, many grandchildren, and one great grandchild and my kids went to school with them at St. Catherine Laboure. I taught some of the Clarke kids in CCD. Trudy and Bill were spiritual role models to many of us and it's hard to believe she is gone. Her husband Bill is near the end of his life and lives in a nursing facility; he was present at the funeral and reception afterwards although unable to engage with the guests. He was once a mentor to me; I felt very, very sad, but what a legacy they have lived. 

St. Joseph's was the first Catholic Church I ever remember being in. It was my sister Virginia and brother-in-law Sal's parish and I often spent time with them when I was growing up. As I recall, I was about 8-years-old and my sis took me shopping for a new Easter dress. We sat in the choir loft, or at least that is what I remember. This church is very large and is filled with art and statuary. I'll never forget the grandeur of that Easter service. It was the first time I saw Our Lady of Guadalupe who is displayed prominently on a side altar. I was attending a Baptist Church at the time. When my husband and I moved back to L.A. after college, St. Joseph's was our parish for two years. 

My parents, my sisters and I lived in a small home at 11408 Birch St. in Hawthorne when I was ages 3-6. After the funeral, I drove by the house and though it seemed huge to me as a kid, it is in reality very modest. It was during WW II and my sisters were all of dating age. I remember so many service men visiting our home as my older sisters were active at the USO. In speaking with my two living sisters yesterday, they told me that each of them had been married in front of the fire place in that house. I know that whoever lives there has a big black SUV. I wonder who they are. Memories are bombarding me.

I've been thinking a lot about my spiritual journey lately as I have been aware of being a seeker since I was a young child. I converted to Catholicism at age 21 and the church was our primary community for more than 25 years. I still feel so much at home in a Catholic Church and comfortably attend mass when it feels right. I have difficulty with politics and doctrine, but adore the mysticism, liturgy, social justice, and scholasticism of the Catholic Church. It's like coming home when I do attend mass, and yet, I am expressing myself as an Episcopal the past several years. I often dream of being at mass. Is it possible to be an Episcopal Catholic? I know there is an African Methodist Episcopal Church. Since I have free will, I suppose I can choose to worship however I wish, but I sometimes wish I wasn't so dualistic about so many things. I rarely see things in black and white. 

Ah, food for thought. Any comments? 

Guess Who Came to Pre-Thanksgiving Dinner?

My youngest son Tony and his family are going to Gret's family for Thanksgiving, so the rest of the L.A. part of the family gathered late this afternoon at my house to celebrate. In addition to Tony, Gret, Fritz, Henry, my daughter Christy and my granddaughter Whitney, Ray (my ex) and his wife Diana, and me--there were two surprise guests: Scrappy and Donde. 

It is my Christy's birthday tomorrow (46, but don't tell anybody) and there she gorgeously appears on the right. Whitney holds one of the surprise guests--six-week old Donde and Christy is holding his sister, Scrappy. It was two of the 11 pit bull puppies that came to dinner. I have fencing to make a pen from Cookie's puppy days and when we weren't holding the dogs, they were snoozing and crying in their jury-rigged bed. 

Six of the 11 puppies have homes to go to in a few weeks including Donde and Scrappy. 

My grandson Anthony was really sick today so he didn't come, but we made a plate for his mom to take home to him. 

Whitney will be starting her second semester in nursing school in February and we loved hearing all her stories. 

Don't you just love kids when they are uncontrollably joyful and excited? That's Fritz and

Henry as they watch their Washington cousins Zach and Arlo on the web cam. That kind of makes us feel like we are all together. 

And we will all be together in late February when Joe, Laura and the boys come down for a week. I can hardly wait. 

When I visited Port Angeles this summer, Arlo wasn't walking yet, but he's walking all over now. 

Computers and web cams are the greatest things since sliced, buttered white bread. Though the photo is not good, this is Joe and Zach on my computer screen talking to the family. Arlo was walking around the kitchen with a pan on his head which was a hat, we were told. 

So, Thanksgiving week has officially started and it will be really low key for me this year. I'll go to Christy's home on Wednesday night where the kids' dad Lorenzo entertains his family. On Thursday they will come here for brunch and my neighbors have invited me along with 40 other people for dinner. 

So very much to be grateful for this year. 

An update on my sis Betty in Washington. She started chemo and radiation for her lung cancer this past week. She'll have chemo every Monday for eight weeks and radiation every week day for 6-7 weeks. So far, so good; she's driving herself. But all her friends in the senior park she lives in have formed a car pool to drive her when the time comes. 

We hear so much negative stuff all the time, but if we stay aware and listen closely, the good far outweighs the bad, don't you think?   

More delight for tonight. Though Fritz and Henry only live a few miles away, grandma gets her first sleep over tonight. Mom and dad have a 7 a.m. teachers conference and it seemed easier than getting up at 5:30 a.m. to stay with the boys. Friends will be holding down my home fort. 

What is the Sound of One Tree Falling?

We knew that a mighty wind was coming to Southern California, but little did I imagine that after I left work, a tree would fall into my parking space. A co-worker called about 8 p.m. to forewarn me to park somewhere else the next day.  

Remember this philosophical saying? "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" That was my thinking when I visited the tree in person today.

The phone rang early this morning and it was an automated phone call from UPS telling me that a box from a crematory would arrive today and someone has to sign for it. Ah, Cookie is coming home much more quickly than I had expected. The last thing I always did before bed was to take Cookie out for a quick walk to relieve herself. Last night I did not have to keep my regular clothes on for our bedtime ritual and because the weather was a challenge, I'll admit I was glad. After my art class I came home and got into my nightie, my soft winter robe, and put on my fleecy slippers. Cookie did not like rain or wind and I'm assuming the weather is perfect for herding where she exists now. I imagine her running with Blondie, Wilhelmina, Wolfy, Jake, Duchess and Cena, the dogs that have gone before her. 

Mixed Media Collage: "Emily Ann"

For the past six Monday nights I have been taking a mixed media collage class at Summer Studios in Lomita, CA. If you live in the South Bay area of Los Angeles, I can’t recommend classes—and visits—here enough. You can check out their classes and events at the site above. Their fourth Friday Art Jam nights are fabulous although there won’t be another one until January because of holiday conflicts.

As it turned out, I was the only student in Anita Dixon’s Monday night class, but she faithfully met with me and taught me many things I didn’t know. Anita is "an old soul," and I am always drawn to people like her. Her own art work is superb and at least three of her pieces are currently hanging in the gallery. 

I have one piece completed and framed, another two completed (a key case and a collage box which I had made years ago but now knew how to make them better), and five pieces are in various states of completion.

I call this piece, which is 8” x 8”, “Emily Ann.” The photo is my mother when she was about 16. One of my most cherished possessions is a hand-written baby book my mom kept the first year of my life. The writing you see are snippets from the first entry she made. (I photo copied the original.) That is my handwriting of her name. I am probably going to mount this piece on masonite or some kind of board.

I just laid down some more layers on two of the pieces. Ever since Cookie got really ill, I spent time each day working on my class projects. I am choosing not to work on any Cookie art pieces right now, although I have written every day in my journal about her.

As a dog lover, I sure resonate with the studio's name. David Parsons, the owner and Executive Director, named it after his dog Summer. Summer is always there to greet people with a bark. There is also a large exotic bird in a cage who interacts with everyone and a tiny finch who also trills periodically. 

Summer Studios is a very special place to learn and visit. 

My Dear Sweet Cookie is Fading Away

For those of you who read here regularly, Cookie has been my beloved companion for 13 of her 14 years.  

For the past several months she has had her ups and downs and the Cushings drugs made her sicker. Mid-week last week she began refusing food and could no longer walk up the stairs to where the bedrooms are in my house. 

When I took her to the vet--again--yesterday, Dr. Steve recommended hospitalization for tests and observation. He has kept me informed since by phone. She is very anemic and he suspects cancer in the spleen and liver. He can call in a specialist for a more thorough diagnosis, but at her age, if it is what he thinks it is, she would not do well on chemo. I vacillated about the testing but opted to bring her home "to enjoy her for a few more days." 

I have just brought all my bedding downstairs and will sleep on the sofa where we can see each other for however long we have left together.

I did not want a dog 13 years ago but when I heard her story and then met her, I was instantly enchanted. The legend is that she belonged to a prostitute in the Hollywood area, and when she was arrested, she passed her off to a homeless man named Johnny. He named her Cookie for Cookies and Cream ice cream, but he didn't keep her leashed and she got hit by a car. My son's then-girlfriend had a friend who worked in the neighborhood and everyone chipped in to pay for the vet to get her fixed up. I saw her for the first time at Tiffany's apartment and we took her for a walk in a Hermosa Beach park. I took Cookie home with me that night.

Still a puppy then, she caused some major havoc in my townhouse and for a full year she went to work with me where one of the teachers kept her in his classroom with his two dogs. Back then, we could have dogs on campus. She became the mascot for the student newspaper which I advised at that time. 

We've had a long and good life together, with ups and downs, but I gaze at her sleeping as I type this and my heart is bursting with love and sorrow. 

Palos Verdes Marine LCpl. Chris Kutlesas's Unit To Receive Books for Troops

When LCpl. Chris Kutlesa, 21, a Marine Combat Correspondent currently stationed in Japan, was younger, he introduced his mom, Karen Kutlesa, to the used book sale at Malaga Cove Library. "He was and is a book sleuth and he started me coming," she said, "and I still come as often as I can." Chris was raised in Palos Verdes and graduated from Palos Verdes High School.

So, when Karen and her family dropped by yesterday to browse and buy books, she and Gene Roeder, who directs all the book sales for the Peninsula Friends of the Library, is Vice President for Operations for PFL, and the Books for Troops program, began to chat.

Since 2004 the Peninsula Friends of the Library has been sending books, videos, magazines and CDs to troops all over the world. Gene told Karen that the PFL has shipped more than 68,182 items in 508 boxes weighing more than 336 tons to military hospitals, USO facilities, Army, Navy, Marine Corps and Air Force units in 43 countries since joining the Books for Troops program.

He asked for her son's unit's address and said he would especially pack a box just for his unit. Small world, isn't it?

And you can help with a minimum donation of $15 which will send 40 books to our troops.  Donations can be made to Peninsula Friends of the Library, Books for Troops and sent to Malaga Cove Library, 2400 Via Campesina, Palos Verdes Estates, CA 90274.

Donations of the various media can be dropped off at any of the three library locations and should be marked Books for Troops to distinguish them from our other donations. The most requested genres are: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Mysteries, Westerns and Adventure.

Books are also donated to the LAX USO.

As I prepare to push this send button, I'm sending Karen Kutlesa the link for this blog post so Chris can see his mom passing on his book sleuth tradition. And I also cross posted this story to the Peninsula Friends of the Library blog. 

For additional information, call 310-377-9584, ext. 553 or e-mail at friends@pvld.org