Country Living

A few years I made the change from city dweller to county bumpkin. All for love I made the change. Before I met and married my husband a world without sidewalks held no appeal for me. I was used to living within hearing distance of my neighbors conversations and backyard antics. I relished that I had a supermarket and a Target within a mile of my house. I liked that my yard work could be done within a couple hours and then I could focus on yard play...planting flowers; playing with the dogs; or simply watching clouds pass in a lawn chair.

Now, the yard is a lot larger and a trip to the supermarket takes a bit more thought. It would be an impossibility to finish up the yard work on our 2.25 acres within two hours. In fact, I would venture to say that our yard work is never done. There is always something that needs mowing or pruning or planting. It takes a shout out of "Hello" to grab our neighbors' attention for a friendly wave. And, the only backyard activities we are aware of are smells of barbecue in the vicinity.

Before county living I didn't know a thing about wells or septic tanks. I didn't realize that wells ran dry and septic tanks filled up. I didn't know a person could buy propane by the gallon and have it delivered by truck. And, I surely did not know that it would take several hundred gallons to keep a home functioning through the course of a year. I never knew about a "Weed Witch" that could cite me if my grass was too long too far into the fire season. "Mosquito abatement" meant about as much to me as "culling a tree."

But there are other things. No longer do we have to drive to the mountains to see the stars at night. No longer do we wish our neighbors party would cease at midnight because we need sleep. We see wildlife like kit foxes and coyotes weekly. We own an owl house and have it perched in a tree. We have three-foot holes ...I mean "caves"... in our back field dug by our children that have the freedom to explore a tree-lined space in safety.

We are part of a community to that waves you into traffic and greets you at the market. We are kindred spirits that relish the quietness of country living. We can actually hear the wind blow through the trees and the bees buzzing on the summer grass.

So, for love I gave up the rush of city living; the convenience of living smack in the middle of things. But, I gained so much more and found in myself a person that enjoys the contentment of country living; the contentment in coming "home."

The Rainbow Bridge

So soon after losing our Charlie dog we had to say goodbye to another friend, Alty. I got Alty when she was 8 weeks old and named her Altimeter Sky as a tribute to my passion at the time of skydiving. Alty was a German Short hair Pointer. She literally ran everywhere and only stopped running when it was time to eat or rest. She was my first dog that was my own dog. She was sweet and kind and lived life with zeal. It was a challenge watching her age. So agile in her youth and so frail as time took its toll. I am so grateful to have had my friend with me for 14 1/2 years. She was very hard to say good too.

People have told me that pets don't go to Heaven. That hurts my heart because I truly believe that they do. I love this poem that a friend told me about...this is what I believe...

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

 

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.

There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.

There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

 

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

 

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

 

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

 

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

 

Author unknown

Charlie

We had to say good-bye to our dog, Charlie, this week. Now, Charlie was an amazing dog. He didn't do any especially unique tricks and he didn't fetch my slippers and my daily newspaper. What he did was love us with his whole being.

Charlie came to live with me about 12 years ago. He was roughly six months old. He was found in a neighborhood off the beaten path. A woman opened her door one morning to collect her newspaper and she saw this little puppy laying there. He fussed and cried and as she knelt to pick him up she heard the whines of an older dog coming from the road. It was pouring rain as she started down the drive to find a mama dog with a litter of young puppies shivering in the cold. Charlie was the one that traveled to the door while mama tended to his siblings. While homes were found for the other puppies and mama, Charlie remained with the woman for a few months but for whatever reason decided she could not keep him. I was looking for a companion for my only dog at the time and the fit was perfect.

Charlie was a joyful dog. He had a lively spirit and everyone who met him loved him. I would frequently get asked, "How is Charlie doing?" as if he were my child or spouse. Everyone cared about Charlie.

When I did marry and have children, Charlie accepted each addition with an open heart. He watched over my children as babies and has played with them as young children. He was playful and liked to back talk. If you asked him something he would bark and yap back as if he was giving you a very thoughtful answer.

Three months ago, Charlie was diagnosed with lung cancer and given only 1 to 2 months to live. While we were devastated we sought to make our last bits of time together special. And, Charlie rallied. He started eating; his eyes lit up with that familiar spark. Soon, I began to believe that he had been misdiagnosed. That he didn't have cancer at all.

What I didn't realize was that Charlie was valiantly fighting that dreaded disease everyday. It came to be too much for him and he began to deteriorate rapidly. My husband and I made the most difficult decision to let him go. And, with us by his side, he took his last breath but not before I thanked him for being such a wonderful friend and companion and I told him how much I loved him.

I feel so blessed to have been given the gift of Charlie in my life. He made my world a brighter place and I am grateful for the many memories I have of this most special friend. 

My Rockstar

This three second clip of my daughter captures her entire personality. Her spunk, humor, and innocence are priceless and...pretty comical!

Oy! The Pressure!

I feel so much pressure to write a blog...a blog about something...anything! A witty blog. An informative blog. A blog that will inspire and require an introspective glance. But...I got nothing.

My mind is full of deadlines and obligations. It is rattled with worry over a million different things. It is chock-full of tasks eagerly awaiting the check mark of completion.

I got a bit sidelined when my husband calmly told me he thought he might have broken his hand. What? Might have broken? A popping sound? A snap? That can't be good. The x-rays proved that is wasn't good and it won't be for a few more weeks until he has surgery. He is a good sport and is ambling around as best he can. But, for the self-employed autobody painter and designer, a broken hand is a broken link in the "I do work, you pay me" chain.

About the same time the hand snapped, my paycheck was dinged. That well that went dry has to be paid for and the 401K I borrowed from is gathering its money back. For the next five years my paycheck will be lighter...a lot lighter. Lighter is good if you are on a diet...I am not. I am a lean, mean, coupon-cutting, sale-shopping machine these days!

So that is a brief glimpse at why my wit is zapped; my thoughts are jumbled; my mind is taxed. I am sure my new, amplified, cost-conscious life will provide fodder for future blogs because, after all, the best things in life - and to write about - are free!

Well, that's embarassing!

We all have moments that leave us searching for a hole to scurry into. Those times when we truly wish the Earth would suck us up and leave no trace. I have had plenty of such moments...pleeeeeenty! I am anything but graceful. Try as I might to stand talk and act polished, I still find myself in embarrassing moments.

FLYING and FALLING OBJECTS

I have been struck by bird and bird poo. By the poo twice. Once smack dab on the top of my head. Once on my shoulder. Neither pleasant. I think the poo on the head was much more traumatic because it was actually touching my skin...not my clothes, but actually creeping into the follicles on my head. Being somewhat germ-phobic, this literally put me on the outer limits of my sanity.

And, yes, I have been struck by a bird. While dressed in a elegant black dress as part of a wedding party I was struck by a just released symbol of love...the white dove. Proof of the assault came with the wedding photos where I am pictured diligently holding my bouquet while my face is a mix of surprise and horror. You can see my head bent sightly forward from the force and the dove actually pushing off with wildly frantic flapping wings.

I was also struck by an acorn once...in the head...in a huge park...with hundreds of other people. That acorn wheedled its way through the crowd and found my head to drop on. I remember hearing the knock, feeling the smart, seeing the acorn drop to my lap, and looking at my husband as he burst into laughter. I looked around to see other smirks and wondered why that thing had to hit me.

I have been the falling object many of times. I have fallen on the job, at home, at a clothing store. I have fallen while running, while walking, and once I toppled over from a dead stand still. I have fallen on asphalt, on dirt, on concrete, on a huge pile of boxed chocolates, in a moss-laden gutter, and on tile. I have fallen against stairs, cars, chairs, and tables. I have fallen over dogs, children, and my own feet. I have fallen off of motorcycles, bicycles, and scooters. I have even fallen from the sky on a number of occasions. I fall...a lot. When I showed up to my own bridal shower on crutches my mother pursed her lips and gave me a firm scolding because, obviously, I was doing something I shouldn't have been doing and don't I know how clumsy I am?

Also, under the category of flying object I can add the underwire of my bra. While talking to our vet about the health of my dogs I once had my underwire literally fly out of my sleeve and fall in a clatter to the floor. The vet was curious to see what the UFO could be but I had reactions of lightening and I whipped the crescent up and stuffed it into my purse. The vet stared at me curiously but proceed with his diagnosis. The underwire must have been ready to give for it to fly with such force. I am thankful it struck neither human nor animal.

OUT OF THE MOUTH

Some of the worst offenses are those made verbally. I am horrible with names. I no longer even like to address people by their names for fear I will, yet again, have them wrong. Once, on a first date, I called my date the name of his roommate. And, when I worked for a non-profit organization, I spoke candidly to the major founder. When I relayed this great conversation to my boss he doubled-over laughing hysterically. Apparently, the major founder was dead and had been such for a long time. I was just talking to some random guy that looked a lot like the framed photo on the wall. Those moments are the worst!

APPEARANCES

These are really rotten moments because you so often don't realize what a buffoon you look like. I once had my boss ask me what was caught on the front collar on my shirt. As I reach up and fingered it, I realized it was the tag. That's right, I wore my shirt to work backwards.

In another moment of bra drama, as I was flirting with a guy back in my single days I lifted my arm to make a gesture and the guy grabbed and tugged at something under my sleeve. "What's this?" he giggled. It was my bra strap. The thing had come unhinged and was dangling out my sleeve.

Boogers and zits and chives in the teeth are horrible to spy in the rearview mirror of the car. I can't count the number of times I have chatted and cajoled only to head back to the car to find a big black chive between my front teeth. Why don't people tell me these things?

I am sure my world holds more embarrassment for me. It holds far more than I have shared here! I just hope it goes easy on me...like, no more falling on 150 boxes of See's candy in a straight, tight denim skirt that would leave me wallowing like a turtle on its back. Yea, no more of that!

Fres-YES!

I have endured the looks, the comments, the eye rolls. The sorrowful gestures that say, "I am so sorry you live in Fresno." The worst was the pity I received from a woman while passing through Barstow, California. She sadly nodded her head and clucked her tongue as she said, "Oh, you live in Fresno? I am so sorry for you." I couldn't help but lean forward and whisper, "You know you live in Barstow, right?"

I will declare here and now, without shame and downcast eyes, that I unabashedly LOVE Fresno! While I now live on the outskirts of town, I still consider Fresno my home. I have lived here since 1987 and now I am raising my own family in this amazing place.

Everyone hears and focuses on the negative media that Fresno receives. Yes, the city certainly has its fair share of problems. But, what about the good parts of Fresno? Yes, there are indeed good parts...oodles of them!

Fresno is centrally located in this grand state of California. We sit with the beautiful Sierras on one side and the rolling Pacific Ocean less than three hours away on the other side. We have repeatedly satisfied my husband's craving for fresh clam chowder with  day trips to Pismo Beach and we love to spend winter days playing with our children in the Sierra snow just west of our home.

Yosemite National Park sits grandly in our backyard attracting visitors from all over the world. No less than five times have I gotten up early to hike Half Dome and been back to sleep in my own bed that night. I marvel at the sheer beauty found in the park. It is breathtaking and inspiring. I don't think one can visit Yosemite and doubt God's existence.

Fresno offers more beauty found in the great agricultural landscape. I relish traveling home from business trips to be greeted by the fragrant smell of orange blossoms. The rich, citrus smell is the smell of home to me. It is comfort and security. A seasonal trip through the Fresno Blossom Trail is an amazing trip for one's senses. From the incredible beauty and colors found in the Almond, Plum, Peach, Nectarine, Apricot, Citrus and Apple blossoms to the incredible sweet and savory smells to the buzzing of hundreds of dutifully busy bees.

Fresno offers an array of great places to shop and there are numerous places to treat your palate to any number of cultural cuisines. Fresno offers the best Mexican food I have ever tasted. While some towns boast Taco Bell as true Mexican cuisine, Fresnans know that has nothing on Sal's, Javiar's, Mexicatessen, or Casa Corona.

One thing I truly love about Fresno is the small town feel it has managed to maintain while growing steadily in population. I love running into friends in random places. From the Woodward Park Library to SaveMart to The Shops at Riverpark, my husband and I always seem to encounter the friendly face of someone we know.

Fresno may not sit at the top of a list of the best places to live, but for me, it truly is the only place I can imagine raising my family. My kids are learning good, solid values not only from me and my husband, but from the community that surrounds them. They are seeing the rewards of hard work and the joys of a more simple life. They don't require 8-lane highways and skyscrapers dotting the skyline. They enjoy trips to the movie theater and swim lessons. They love picking fruit from our own trees and adventures to the coast and mountains.

Fresno offers many of the perks of a metropolitan city without the congestion and delays. Fresnans appreciate a less-intense lifestyle than the larger cities to the north and south of us. To me, Fresno is home.  To those who pity me because I live in Fresno I say Fres-YES!