Christmas Eve - heavy peach moon

I saw a peach moon, waxing crescent, tonight, hanging heavy over the mountains in the West.  It was beautiful and large.  So large it stopped me, in its tracks.  Larger than I have seen it in a long time.  And it was beautiful to behold.

I was with my friend George.  And as he is a dog, a greyhound, a trusted companion, I walked towards the moon.  But as I went around the buildings the moon ducked behind the mountains.

I thought the moon was playing hide and peek-a-boo, but I realized it was hide and head to sleep.  It was sinking into the horizon.  I was left behind longing to see it one more time, as an orange glow disappeared in the dark.

I saw a moonset on Christmas Eve, and was thankful for the gift.  Which brought forth, as always on Christmas Eve, the thought of the wise men traveling to see the babe in a manger.  I, incidentally was looking west, but needed to head east back to home.

In the story of the Christ child’s birth, I believe I resonate best these days with the wise men.  I don’t have the bravery to be a Mary or a Joseph; to stand up and be bold in one's time. I don’t have the wherewith all to take on the responsibility of a herd of sheep or group of any people, and know that I could protect them on a long journey. 

But the stars and night time.  I don’t know for sure if the wisemen followed a star in the East.  If this is truth, they had to travel at night.  Well, I seem to be a night traveler haunting their steps.  The sun sets and I awake.  I love the night time, the quiet, the anonymity, the peace, the mystery…the stars and the moon.

Or maybe it’s a youthful memory of safety.  Tucked in bed at night. Safe under the prayers said with mum and a kiss on the forehead.  “Pretend your asleep” my sister and I whispered to each other, as we huddled under the blankets, eyes closed and big smiles on our faces, quivering and trying not to smile before mum came in.  “Pretend your asleep”.  I will have to ask my mum what she thought as she came in to tuck us in…but this is a digression.

The real story is in the searching.

Searching, using stars or messengers…  searching for a place.   Searching for a place in life, a place in the stars, a place in the manger, a place we can call home.  And no truer words were said than home is where the heart is.  Where is your heart?  Where is your home?

And if you find yourself searching at Christmas, and you have heard the story told for generations, with whom do you reconcile? Mary, Joseph, the shepherds the wise men? Do you find comfort, a 'place' to call home in the telling of their journeys? 

I am called to an intimate place, a quiet place past birth - where it is mother, a child and comfort of wisemen, angels and animals...

I have often thought about the drummer boy*...a hymn that filled me with joy as a child on Christmas without even a drum...

'...I have no gifts to bring pa rum pum pum pum...
...I played my drum for Him...
...I played my best for Him...
...Then He smiled at me...
Pa rum pum pum-pum
Me and my drum'

What gifts do you bring?  I always  wished to have a drum...something - anything - but I find that I am lacking, always lacking, but showing up, hoping I will find my gift to contribute.  So that is my simple message.  If you know your gift, share it.  If you don't know your gift - keep showing up until you find it or someone recognizes it in you.  Follow the wisemen and show up.

ps iloveu

*Little Drummer Boy - lyrics

Come they told mePa rum pum pum-pumA newborn King to seePa rum pum pum-pumOur finest gifts we bringPa rum pum pum-pumTo lay before the kingPa rum pum pum-pumRum pum pum-pumRum pum pum-pumSo to honor HimPa rum pum pum-pumWhen we come

Little babyPa rum pum pum-pumI am a poor boy tooPa rum pum pum-pumI have no gift to bringPa rum pum pum-pumThat's fit to give our KingPa rum pum pum-pumRum pum pum-pumRum pum pum-pumShall I play for youPa rum pum pum-pumOn my drum


Mary noddedPa rum pum pum-pumThe ox and lamb kept timePa rum pum pum-pumI played my drum for HimPa rum pum pum-pumI played my best for HimPa rum pum pum-pumRum pum pum-pumRum pum pum-pumThen He smiled at mePa rum pum pum-pumMe and my drum

I need to pay attention...

It was a beautiful day here in Arizona, started in the 70s got to the 80s and back to the 70s again.  I took my beautiful happy hound George! to the dog park.

We have tried to get there a couple of times but it was always occupied.

This evening we were home free and George! got some sprints in.  My black beauty flew across the grass a few times. We were there till the sun set and I retrieved the leash from the smooth concrete table.  I was ready to leave but hadn't told George! yet.

I called him, he hesitated then he came running, big smiles prancing my way.  That was a first - he is usually a call me and I will come in my own time kinda guy.  Sometimes I wonder why I bothered to name him.  This time we were in sync and he came loping, held up in front of me and waited to get clipped onto the leash.

We walked home in the past twilight dark.

I knew I had to wait to feed him so I took the time to run to the grocery for a couple of things.  I was back in 15 mins and he was still a little breathy - it could  have been me being gone and his excitement on my return or it could have been him still worked up from his run.  I sat and waited to see if he would calm.  He did for a bit  -- then he got up drank water -- looked into my bedroom and whined.

It was an odd whine - like there is something wrong.  What's up bud, I asked.  He looked into the bedroom and came to me, tucked his nose into my armpit and enjoyed some lovings.  Then laid down.  I didn't investigate.  It was an odd moment that I passed off.

I fed him -- late, I got distracted -- he gave me the stink eye as I put 2 cups of kibble into his bowl, but when I put hot water onto the tripe I had spooned into his bowl, he leapt up and ran to the kitchen. They have very good noses these hounds.

I took him out for the last walk and when we came back he stared into the bedroom, ears up.  I looked at what he was looking at and Simba was on his side, motionless, on the floor between the bedside table and the box that is at a cockamamie angle to the bed and beside table.

I held my breath for a second then called Simba, SIMBA! He didn't move and I thought Oh Lord, not now, not tonight please...I called once more and he slowly opened his eyes, one at a time and gave me a look that appeared to be ?what?  I pulled him up, checked his paws and ears and belly. He was okay.  Gave him  treats, treated George! and wondered what I had missed.  Simba always sleeps on the box next to my bed in the evening.  During the day - he is invisible and late afternoon he has been on the chair in my living room on his blanket, but after dark he is on the box by my bed.

These guys don't have a cuddly relationship but they are aware of each other.  Simba is 14 years old and has twitches.  I wonder if something happened and George! sensed it.  Or maybe he found a new place to sleep, which would have been odd to me and now maybe odd to my George!?

Simba leaps from my bed to the box and back again as he gently plays me awake.  He is a wonderful hoot at that.  My little furry friend who keeps time for me.

I hope he is fine.  He appears to be.  But he is 14 and George! almost 9.  I appreciate George's attention and this evenings reminder to me to pay closer attention to the odd moments.

I know - a somewhat erroneous post - but I realize I spend time swimming in the future at the expense of the present.

Best,

Laura


p.s. iloveyou

Jungle names

My poor mug-muffins.  Today was vet day.  

And today, I realized I had inadvertently named them with jungle names.  

How did I come to this mundane realization?  

George was alone with me in the exam room panting as he does when he has been too long in a place he doesn't want to be, while Simba was getting a blood draw.

George walked towards the door from time to time, and returned when I asked if he was leaving without me.  

Chocolate brown, liquid eyes, glanced at me nervously as he stood behind the loveseat mouth open breathing into the wall.  

He doesn't trust me, because I let him go for a blood draw.  I told him I was there for him , as he was for me when I had to climb over snowbanks in Ohio, when I am slipping on my LL Bean shoes he holds me in balance, when I need a pal.

None of that worked so I fell back on my default -- sang him a song.  Singing a song to any of my animals has never calmed them down, but I try it every time.

George, George, George of the jungle brave as he can beeeeeeeeeee, George, George, George of the jungle pal to you and meeeeeee…

Now those of you of a certain era, who know the song, know I have the lyrics wrong.  I just looked them up and listened to the song - I totally had the song wrong.  But that’s who I am; the gal who can’t get the song quite right, but sings in the spirit of the song to my companion George who holds steady at 82.6 lbs.  

Now some of you may be thinking 82 pounds!  That dog must be huge.  No, he’s a skinny dog, with lots of muscle, the biggest of which is his heart.  He is gentle, always near me and doesn’t pull on lead.  My George is a Prince.

But back to the jungle.  Simba came to me as King Earl.  He is indeed the ruler of my universe.  I gave him the name Simba because he had the square jaw of a lion.  He is one of the most intuitive animals I have ever had.  Regardless of the daylight savings time that occurs in states, other than Arizona - sky scraping beautiful desert mountain views - he is always on time.  7 am (Daylight Standard Time or Standard Time) unless I had a 6 am conference call in which case he would start tapping me at 5:45 am.  Yes, Simba.  

The cat the house sitter never saw.  The cat who wouldn’t come out for anybody, but John.  This magnificent creature was howling in his crate, and yet, somehow I think it was more “why aren’t you petting me mortals” than “I don’t want to be here”.  He was happy to be out of his crate; he wanted the attention justified for one who is King of the Jungle…. 

And that’s when I realized…I have named both my animals jungle names.

A Prince and a King, how lucky am I to spend time with these creatures…

Edvard Munch, you painted me perfectly today...

Me today.

When I decided at 4:39 pm to go to the grocery store for cat food as I was out. See previous post Hell hath no fury...

I also wanted to check how many gas points I had since I was below a quarter of a tank. I don't normally let it get that low, but when I know I have some gas points - maybe close enough for 10 cents off per gallon, I will push it a little.

I wasn't thinking about 'the storm'.

Not only was I cattle shuttling with all the folk getting off work, we are expecting snow tomorrow. 1-2 inches -- enough to send the world to the Kroger in my neighborhood.

No one in the grocery store had a plan, including myself. I had a list of 5 items which I couldn't seem to keep in my head, so I couldn't plan my path. I did get the cat food first, however, I was doing the unthinkable, inadvertently.

I kept trying, unsuccessfully, to leave my cart in unobtrusive places while I got bananas, while I stood for at least 2 minutes waiting for a jam to clear, while I got crackers -- that time I had left my cart next to a display and effectively blocked the lane. Arghhhhh!

I picked up 2 small containers of half and half because they were out of the bigger one, perhaps sensing a run on half and half, and tried to get the heck out of dodge...

I bring my own bag(s). Well, I have yet to learn that I should bring all my bags because when I only bring one I inevitably buy more than one bag full. My one bag that I did bring wasn't filled, it had a handful of things in it. So I left with about 8 dreaded double bagged bags with handfuls of things.  I will recycle but Arghhhhh...

I finally got out. I got out and made my way to my car with less than 1/4 of a tank. But I now had over 100 Kroger points so I could get 10 cents off the gallon. Off to the Shell station in the Kroger parking lot.

There was a jam and yes, my car ended up blocking part of a lane.

I was the car, behind the car, behind the car that was taking forever... As I was pulling up I saw a woman get out of said car, in front of the car, in front of me, and instead of fueling up she went to the Kiosk...then was gone for a long, long time....Argh.

Long enough for me to scroll through Facebook. Long enough for me to watch and take a picture of a fellow fill his car with gas, then proceed to fill 6 gas cans in his trunk...finally, the woman is gone and I can pull up behind the lady in front of me. She doesn't start filling her tank, she goes to the kiosk...

My turn, and I am getting 18 gallons of gas...I am now that person taking forever, but at least I didn't head to the kiosk. I didn't, however get my credit card out in all that time I was waiting.  Oiy, Argh for the person behind me.

When I was done, I scramboney-baloney to get away from the gas pumps and then there were three of we cars, all facing each other. Making a triangle of headlights. Somebody move I thought - finally I did. Apparently I was the biggest car? I wasn't the first but after that I made it through the oh so crowded parking lot again and finally to the light to get out and get home.

At this point I was frazzled by the chaos and crowds, but oh so happy to be back home until I had to lug in a million Kroger bags that had a handful of things in them...argh.

Edvard Munch - you painted me perfectly today.

Laura

p.s. iloveu