It's home: fog, rain and the traffic too

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

The fog here is different. In Ohio it was like smoke in the valleys around Steubenville; in Florida it was wispy and hot. And one black night when Clark and I  were sailing on Lake Michigan we couldn’t find the dock, even though it was right in front of our boat, hidden in fog.

But today I was driving along some freeway — I still don’t know 5 from 80 — and all at once the gray sky just settled down on all of us, thick and comfy as a pillow: California in the rain. 

I still have so much to learn, but I’m beginning to feel at home here. That fog didn’t panic me; I found my way to University Art store and felt comfortable browsing there (I used to feel like an interloper.);  I knew I could park on the side street for free, while if I’d parked on on J Street in front of the store I’d have to feed the meter. At 4:30 p.m. I stupidly drove across town from N to D Streets, knowing traffic would be creeping in the rain. I could have walked to pick up Zing much faster. But I did it anyway, eyes open, testing myself and Rosa against the Sacramento evening, just another part of the rush-hour crowd. We belong.

Love,
k

Sunday

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

Another lovely, easy Sunday. 

I did clean the three big windows, though; they were speckled with cement dust from when Bill blasted the old floor out. I put this chore off until the very last minute: shades and curtains will be hung Tuesday, thanks largely to Mary’s guiding eye.

Is it odd to love a sink? I have fallen for my new one already — deep and spacious and simple. Oh! and I also love my new garbage disposal, which doesn’t vibrate t when it runs.

It was lovely to go to brunch with Steph and Patrick — I had fun!! After that I had to tell Zing I plan to act like a normal person pretty soon now, and he should be prepared to act like a normal dog and sit quietly on the pillow while I’m gone. Then we went for a walk past the ice rink at Rose of Lima Park. 

Love,
k

Making it home

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

In spite of myself I am making a home here. 

Most of me doesn’t want to do it — have a life, without Clark. 

You know I’ve been plugging away at organizing my studio — the last room to get neat here. It's a heap  of paint and paper and fabric and tools. Settling it could take forever. Part of me has been back-pedaling, like I didn’t want to complete the job. But this afternoon I was sitting there, crouched on the floor actually, finishing up a bulletin board. I had just telephoned Scott the curtain man. He promises my windows will have shades by Tuesday. And Home Depot is installing counters and sinks (that Clark and I had chosen together) the day after tomorrow. These are the last big jobs. And here I was, putting final touches on the studio. I sat there on the floor and cried. Tomorrow would be our 42nd anniversary, and I am alone in this new home that’s mine whether I want it or not. I longed to start life with Clark all over again. So I sobbed for awhile.

If he saw what I am doing, Clark would nod yes. He would want me to have this comfortable new home. Now I’m going to have to live in it. 

Then late this afternoon Zing and I took a long walk around Land Park. (It is dangerously close to the donut store on Freeport Boulevard.) But no — we explored the park, a new area this time, a kind of kiddieland with a train. That section will be locked up until the weekend, but I could tell it's a great feature for kids! There are pony rides too, and a zoo. And lots of open space for my dog and me. It was only 5 p.m., but  getting dark as we drove home through the Land Park neighborhood, which is kind of like Oakwood near Dayton. Gracious homes with some years on them.

Like some of us!

Love,
k

Big but boring

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

OK, today was boring. To talk about, anyway. 

I might be coming to the end of getting my new home organized. (I hate to say condo… something negative about the term … and it’s not exactly an apartment … so I call it my home, my place. Do you have any ideas?)  Today I did little things that need to happen before the shades and curtains are installed next week, and the sinks and counters this Thursday. Phone calls, dry cleaners, etc. I sound so nonchalant, but these are big jobs! And I know something can go wrong in each. As a matter of fact, I expect something to go wrong in each.  We’ll see.

Love,
k

I finally know the secret of the key

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

As Thanksgiving nears, I miss Clark because it was our favorite holiday. Lately, I am beginning to be energized by him, as well. Energized to take it easy, to not worry, to wait awhile. To enjoy. That's what he was always telling me. Thank you, Clark!

So today when I got lost on the way to Arden Mall, I decided to take it easy and not to go to the mall at all. I didn’t really want to, but for a moment it had seemed imperative to buy a pillow to decorate the bed. I did get as far as the parking lot, so now I know the way. 

And, thanks to Clark, this evening I just sat still for 30 minutes. He used to do that, sitting in his leather chair. Thinking. It made me nervous… But earlier this week I read something about breathing in to the count of five and out to six. Today, sitting at the table after dinner, I began counting my breaths, but it was too much trouble. So I just sat. Not thinking.

Speaking of simple things — don’t tell anyone, but this week I learned to turn a key in the lock. Duh! We -- or at least I — rarely used a key in Tallahassee, thanks to the automatic garage door and also our watchful and quiet neighborhood. I kind of forgot how to use a key. This whole time in California I’ve been jiggling around at my front door, acting nonchalant but feeling stupid, taking too much time to get into my own house. I thought the lock was old, uncared for. I bought some black powder you spray into the keyhole to make the thing work, but it didn’t. I felt like an interloper at my own front door. I mean, who can't get into her own place? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the secret of getting the key out of the lock. It took me a while to discover what everyone else knows. 

These are today’s simple changes that I owe to Clark’s spirit. 

Love,

k

Apples for Thanksgiving pie

Home is in the details

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

I love Sundays because I don’t try to do anything. Except of course I do. Today it was small details that make me feel more at home.

This afternoon Zing and I finally connected with a dog-loving woman I met in the lobby back when I first moved in. 
“Let me know if you ever need someone to watch your dog,” she said then. 
Amazingly, Friday I found her name (Sandra) and her unit number. (Oddly, it was in my contacts. I did not think I had that kind of presence of mind back then. Sandra is an exercise guru who has her own gym. She likes dogs around as she works. Her husband, a fireman named Chad, told me she had a beloved dog that died a year ago. This afternoon Zing and I went to the gym to meet her, and Zing immediately began playing with a little fluffy dog she’s watching. I left Zing there for an hour, and will do the same tomorrow. 

Earlier, Zing and I played “disappearing” games recommended by Karen the vet. I jangle my keys and put on my coat and then don’t leave, but instead walk into the bedroom. Then I come out. It sounds inane, but I was kind of getting into it. The idea is to get Zing accustomed to the sound of keys in a relaxing situation. The literature emphasizes that some dogs take a very long time before this becomes effective. Rushing doesn’t work.

I also made plans for an early dinner with a woman I met at the yoga class, since for the rest of the month at least I can leave Zing at Grateful Dog until 7 p.m. 

Life here is gradually taking a shape. Like Zing’s exercises, I can’t rush it.   

I hope that all of you are well and happy and maybe settling into some part of your own life that just can’t be rushed. Enjoy it!

Love,
k

Finally home: my purple couch

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

First thing this morning two men arrived with the purple couch. It is as I anticipated — comfortable and welcoming. In less than five minutes they whisked it upstairs and were gone again. As I closed the door behind them I was crying, feeling Clark’s tenderness. Now the couch itself is like his big hug. Tonight Zing and I were asleep there — we had each claimed a side.  

Love,

k

Routine, the bones of the day

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

Karen the veterinarian says have a routine. She says it's good for Zing, but we both know she means it's good for me. And it is emerging. A routine is the bones you hang your day on. 

Since we’re just creating a schedule, it’s hard to fit in time to test out the tranquilizer for Zing. That is not in the schedule.  Today he couldn’t take it before going to Grateful Dog, because then Zing would be Zombie Dog and unable to play. So I gave him one pill when we got home late this afternoon, and it slowed him down some. Tomorrow I’ll give him the same amount, and then leave for 15 minutes.  

While Zing was gone I went to the Color Theory class at the Crocker Art Museum; we mixed paint again and all of us had the hardest time making green. Also violet. The teacher told me my feathers lack unity, that I should go home and work on it. She said it nicer than that.

When I got back home I was going to put my class papers on the table, then hurry out again to pick up Zing before the evening rush hour. But my doorway had disappeared behind a blockade of boxes: Three sinks. Also a garbage disposal. I edged past the cardboard welcome, opened the door, and one by one dragged those boxes inside. At least they wouldn’t bother the neighbors (I am very nervous about the neighbors.) 

Then I was possessed by one of those whirlwinds of energy, so I grabbed the red box cutter and stabbed through the tape, yanked open the boxes, threw mounds of gray foam packing into the hall, yanked the (!!!***#$#$!) sinks out, inspected them for color and cracks, put them back into their boxes, piled the boxes on the other side of the bed where they can hide awhile, threw the foam back into the larger carrying boxes (so much bigger than the sinks!), and one-by-one dragged them down to the first floor trash room, where I stabbed the boxes into something flat and threw it all into the bin labeled cardboard only. I was on a creation fling and felt like I could probably install the sinks right then.  Clark would be proud. 

After this, my friend Caroline called and we talked like there were no miles between us.  

Love,

k

Trying on a shawl from Gretchen

Home: a puzzle

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

All the details that make a home! 

It’s like a puzzle: none of it’s right until it’s all right. 

To those of you (and to Clark and me too, in the past) who have made a home, grand or humble — perhaps you don’t realize the immensity of your  creation. I guess I took it for granted, that process of combining bowls and silverware and pillows that are perfect for each person, along with routines to count on and the resources to make it all work. It’s kind of wonderful. 

Today I took a few more steps to making my Sacramento home: State Farm, Target, UPS… The shipping people called to say the purple couch will be here the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. And Zing is not following my steps so closely. 

Happy (day after) Halloween!

Love,

k

Zing on the balcony

Dancing in the rain

Written last night:

There was a ferocious rain this morning. One woman who crossed my path in the garage was almost dancing. “We haven’t had rain like this in years!” she said. What little does fall usually begins later in November, she said. 

It was raining when I took Zing to the Grateful Dog for his free day of observation. They wanted him to spend a full day there so they could see his ups and downs. I should have felt like dancing too after that, but I really just wanted to be home all cozy, reading, sipping tea and watching raindrops. Instead I headed to the mall with my To Do list, and checked off quite a few small items, like shower curtain hooks and lightbulbs. Zillions of people were shopping with me. 

Earlier, Mary and I had a great talk — Mary calls me when she’s out walking, and she walks far. Both she and Susan told me I must watch today's CBS Sunday Morning segment on dogs, including those with separation anxiety. (Thank you!) Here’s the link Susan sent:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keRp_S8caps

(Zing watched it too and now he wants his own TV show. I said yes -- then he could pay his for his time at  Grateful Dog.) 

I skipped the poetry class — taking two classes is a stretch now. But I am writing poems (don’t worry — I won’t make you read them!) and have discovered a whole community of poets here; I feel glad to be on its fringes. 

And of course, Zing was fine at the Grateful Dog. He just doesn’t like to be left alone. Yet. 

Love,

k

Dealing with Details

Written last night:

Dear Friends, 

Beginning this morning — oh, it seems so long ago — I began working on wrapping things up. Wrapping my life up. Oooh, sounds like a shroud. I don’t mean that. Just that there are so many, many details that I took for granted and now I have to reinvent them in California. I want to figure it all out soon.

Like how much calcium? how much vitamin D? 
I spent an hour this morning trying to answer. After my GP appointment in Tallahassee in the spring I was told something about these bone-builders. I was faithful with whatever it was. But when Clark died everything went blank and I stopped taking care of myself, eating frozen dinners and ice cream, sleeping whenever I could, quitting the exercise habits of decades. I didn’t decide to stop; I just stopped.

Now I’m in the dark about that new bone-building recommendation. I called Dr. Perry’s office today, but they don’t know, since they've closed my records. I Googled it: take more calcium; calcium causes problems; eat sardines. 

This is just one venture into normalcy; I spent an hour on it this morning. I decided to take some pills and deal with the numbers later.

More issues are what to eat for dinner when you’re cooking for yourself;  how to exercise with/without a dog; do condos get as dusty as houses? 

In a way it’s exciting -- to be making things up as I go along. To be thinking what would Clark recommend? To be asking what do I want?

Leslie called me out of the blue today. It was morning for me and noon for her.What a lovely surprise!

Love,
k

Hard work, being normal

Written last night:

Today:

Kept a careful eye on Zing, seeing how he adapts to changes. With the minimal dosage of relaxer he does seem more relaxed. I’m not sure whether to give him a higher dose. I’ve got word into the vet. 

• Kings opening game drew crowds to neighborhood. Thanks, Keith, for keeping me up-to-date!
• P&S very busy. Raining in the hills. Raining here now too. First time I’ve used my umbrella in a while.
• Visited Mykelle at Home Depot to choose garbage disposer and kitchen sink. Turns out what I want is several years passé. We found it, though. Newest sinks are copper, FYI. Newest faucets are motion-activated. 
• Took Zing to kennel so I could go to Color Theory class. Left word to call me if Zing seemed stressed. Of course, he wasn’t! Seems it’s just when he’s left home alone. (Maybe I should rent the movie.)  
• Color theory class at Crocker Art Museum was great. We mixed paint.  I’m impressed with the two classes I’ve been taking (Poetry is the other.) Crammed with information, high expectations, serious. I’m learning something. 
• Randy the Handyman came at the end of the day and worked two hours straight, hanging pictures, hooks, design wall. Plus laughs. I lucked out in finding him.

It's hard work, being normal.

Detail of painted quilt for kitchen

Hard work, being normal

Today:

• Kept a careful eye on Zing, seeing how he adapts to changes. With the minimal dosage of relaxer he does seem more relaxed. I’m not sure whether to give him a higher dose. I’ve got word into the vet. 
• Kings opening game drew crowds to neighborhood. Thanks, Keith, for keeping me up-to-date!
• P&S very busy. Raining in the hills. Raining here now too. First time I’ve used my umbrella in a while.
• Visited Mykelle at Home Depot to choose garbage disposer and kitchen sink. Turns out what I want is several years passé. We found it, though. Newest sinks are copper, FYI. Newest faucets are motion-activated. 
• Took Zing to kennel so I could go to Color Theory class. Left word to call me if Zing seemed stressed. Of course, he wasn’t! Seems it’s just when he’s left home alone. (Maybe I should rent the movie.)  
• Color theory class at Crocker Art Museum was great. We mixed paint.  I’m impressed with the two classes I’ve been taking (Poetry is the other.) Crammed with information, high expectations, serious. I’m learning something. 
• Randy the Handyman came at the end of the day and worked two hours straight, hanging pictures, hooks, design wall. Plus laughs. I lucked out in finding him.

It's hard work, being normal.

Detail of painted quilt for kitchen

Zing-bound

Written last night:

I am sitting in bed now and Zing is whimpering on the other side of the low wall. I have moved the bed springs so nothing is blocking him. Something about nighttime makes Zing whimper. I feel like whimpering myself. 

He’s still barking when I leave and trying to escape the (now-locked) crate — Cassie’s video today proved that. She insists he sounds less loud. I think he (and I) are adjusting slowly. It’s clear he can’t stand to be alone now. I’m sure he’ll get over it. But I will go crazy before that. I hesitate to leave even to get groceries, and I’m skipping the classes I signed up for. I’ve got to admit it was nicer when I wasn’t aware he was barking. 

(I ignored Zing and he's finally jumped onto the bed.)

Cassi and my friend Susan have both praised UC Davis Veterinary Medical Teaching Hospital, and I made an appointment with their behavior service department for Monday morning. The woman I spoke to was lively and encouraging. She told me the school is #1 in the U.S. and #1 in the world. So Zing is lucky. Cassi wants to go along for the learning experience, and she will be able to add her observations too. It’s a three-hour session.

Meanwhile, I’m getting a lot of chores done around the house.

Alarms, morning and night

Written last night:
This was the day of the fire alarm, and instead of a knock at the door there was a voice on the intercom (We have an intercom?), intoning that the alarm would sound in 10 minutes. So Zing and I fled.  We walked far and fast — both of us had fun, and Zing was almost running sometimes. I still can’t run, maybe never will again, because it hurts, but I can walk exhilaratingly fast. Zing was kind of humoring me when he appeared to run. (We used to do that Tuesday and Thursday mornings in the  Phipps woods.)

Because of the disruption, Cassi the dog trainer didn’t come, but she did call and suggest I acquaint Zing with the sound of his crate/house door locking. Click. Yesterday the sound made him shiver. So today we romped on the floor in front of the crate, and I laid traps of treats inside. After he finally got coaxed inside, we played some more and then I gently, silently, closed the door. Many treats and door openings and closings followed, and finally I clicked on the lock. Zing trembled at first, but then he got a treat. Click. treat, etc. I tried to make the click nearly silent. He seemed at ease with the sound. Tomorrow we’ll see what happens when Cassi comes. I told her today that Zing is perfect except for his inopportune barking. Perfect.

Tonight I took him with me to get dinner at the food trucks parked at the museum. Bread and goulash, which tasted  a lot like Mom’s oxtail soup, but with paprika. On the way back we picked up the mail, and there was a big yellow envelope addressed to me from the HOA. I tried to act nonchalant, but my oh my was I worried. A summons? An eviction? A fine? I wondered where I would live next, and how much money I’d lose selling my condo so swiftly. It did seem a rush to take me to court without much discussion or even a direct threat.  I needed a lawyer. Zing needed a lawyer. 

Somehow in the elevator’s zoom to the twelfth floor I managed to rip open the envelope without spilling the goulash in my shopping bag. (the red felted one you made me, Mary.)  

There was a fat clutch of papers, with a letter on top. Dear Kathleen Turner: it read.

Just as the elevator door opened I read the rest. Enclosed is your financial report for this period…

“We’ve made it another day,” I told Zing, and he wagged. 

Love,

k

The one bird I can count on

Written last night:

My goal: entice Zing to stay in his crate quietly, no matter what. He and I spent lots of time, eye-to-eye on the floor. He may be taking possession of his crate home, but when I closed and locked it, he freaked.


An alarm company guy kindly said he’d knock on my door before they made any noise so I can whisk Zing out for a walk. It will be tomorrow, he said.

While I was down in the lobby I ran into Steve, the large, imposing man who works for the HOA. Steve told me my upstairs neighbor had reported on Zing’s bark.  When I told Steve that Zing missed Clark I began to cry. (I don’t do that often anymore, but sometimes tears spring on me.)That is exactly the way I do not want to appear to this guy. I want to appear strong. Maybe I did, after the tears stopped. 

I then worked ferociously at getting things done around here: sinks, shelves, bills … details to hold our tiny household together. Thank goodness for the phone talks with Mary and Mona!

At about 6 a.m. when Zing and I stepped outside, the light was just breaking. and crows were convening in the treetops. Lots of people love crows and I’ve got to find out why, because they seem to be the one bird I can count on around here.

Dog as decorator

Written last night:

I moved an old ottoman in the bedroom about three feet to the left, and Zing is nonplussed. He used to leap onto it easily and jump from there to the bed. I didn’t think of Zing when I moved it. (Don't tell him, but I don’t really want to think of Zing when I arrange furniture). But for now I’m going to move it back where it used to be to make things easier on him.

I’ve got so much more energy to do this stuff now: today was kitchen and bath -- counters and sinks -- and also window shades. Where possible, I copied what we’d done in our Tallahassee kitchen renovation. In the process I got to deal with two great sales people, Scott and Mykelle. Scott (whose last name is Lutheran!) told me his evolution of belief from reluctant evangelical child to adult “kind of pagan” believer in something/someone out there. I like to hear people’s spiritual journeys; at the beginning of 2016 I decided to “collect” them by asking questions and listening. It was really no more than an intention; by the time Clark died I hadn’t acted on it. But now people are telling me their stories even without me asking. I guess you could say I’m a confused believer myself. As I write this I see that I’ve pretty much abandoned certainty, or anyway clarity. But that could change. 

So much for window hangings!

When I go out now I let Zing “decide” to be in his crate with the door closed. Yesterday he opened the door from the inside two times. Today I wrapped velcro around the wires to shut the crate securely. Again, he met me at the front door, chewing on velcro strip. Susan suggested I get a spring hook, so I headed for the nearby Ace Hardware, tying cords around the crate door in two places with double knots before I left. Of course,Zing had loosed them from inside and greeted me at the door again. (At least he must stop barking when he is busy getting the crate open.) Tomorrow we try the hardware.

I drew this self-portrait in August
It's one of the few things I drew then
I'm just beginning to draw again

Laughing, not barking

Written last night:

I didn’t tell you, but yesterday tears woke me, and I didn’t have a sad dream. I was just plain missing Clark in my sleep. It’s as if he was there, whispering Don’t Worry.  And this morning I woke up dreaming of someone decorating my mirror with gaudy colored baubles all around, and I heard Clark saying, “Make your house happy!”

I guess Clark thinks I need decorating advice. 

Which I do. Tomorrow I’m dealing with windows, and maybe the kitchen sink, which is leaking. Today it was the washer and dryer. 

Yes! They are here, plugged in, working fine.  Don’t tell anyone, but I feel grounded because I finally have a laundry. To celebrate I did a load of towels. 

I’m also cooking; that’s what I’ve done ever since we lived in Euclid, Ohio, when I was six or seven, and I let my runny nose drip into the chocolate chip cookie dough, then baked my first batch of cookies. (I don’t do that anymore…)  Tonight I candied some pecans to take to Mui, the wonder woman from Best Buy, who first took my washer-dryer order (Remember, Patrick and Steph? It seems so long ago). Mui made today’s delivery happen. 

And I started drawing again. It’s probably the only day I will want to draw an automatic washing machine.  

Oh, and when I went out for an errand I put Zing in his crate, as Cassi suggested. And yes, Judy and Susan, Zing did figure out how to open it from the inside. He met me at the front door. I think he was laughing, not barking. 

Sudden surge of energy

Written last night:

Whew! 

The turnaround from the hills to the city leaves me breathless.

What a beautiful experience all-around. I mean, Tallahassee-Sacramento was a stretch. But who would have thought that a change of scene much closer at hand would be just as sharp a contrast?

As you know, yesterday Zing and I drove the hour and a half to the Sierra Nevada foothills to be with Patrick and Steph for about 24 hours. Time was right for the visit: they had a few days to themselves and finally I feel able (eager?) to drive out of Sacramento to see the beauty everyone insists surrounds the city. I had a sudden surge of energy at an opportune time. It’s hard to believe (I’m so self-defeating sometimes), but they wanted us to visit. (Zing even got a special invitation.) Families evolve unpredictably, and I feel overwhelmed — happy — at this genuine affection and love.

This morning Patrick took me to see the garden. I got to see Lawren (who looks great!) and two others working there with him. Up there I kept asking Patrick, “Are these mountains? Are they hills?” It wasn’t craggy or rocky, and not too steep. But we were high up (2000 + feet — I can’t remember exactly, but a half-mile sounds right.). There were houses on hilltops, perched for the view, and from the garden you could see down into the cars on the road below. For someone used to flat Florida and then the valley where Sacramento lies, it was breathtaking. 

All around was evidence of last year’s devastating fire — barren areas with drooping, blackened trees. But green showed through, and lots of tall gold grass. I kept looking for birds and butterflies, and although they must be around, I didn’t see them — except for a single bird that I viewed from underneath as I drove home. Its wings seemed to be glowing red, lit from above by the sun. There were fields with horses and cows, roadside stands selling strawberries and pumpkins (which again is anachronous to someone who thinks strawberries come early in the year. Not here!) 

When I got home the jute carpet I’d ordered was rolled up in front of my door like a log from a big tree.  A sudden surge of a kind of angry energy lit me up and I swung that fat and heavy thing around and push-pulled it into my hallway. There was a knock at the door and the UPS man stood outside; he shoved a big cardboard box through the door and said goodbye. The box was 9-tenths crumpled paper, along with a comfortable rubber rug for in front of the sink. 

I won’t even get into the washer and dryer, which were scheduled for delivery tomorrow — finally — but (take a guess!!) won’t make it. They were rescheduled for the weekend after Thanksgiving. When I saw the email, that angry energy from before lit me up again, and I called Mui from Best Buy. She has worked a kind of magic so the delivery is now to be this Friday. Want to bet on it?

My energy is overflowing and I have been directing a kind of cordial impatience toward Zing too. I hope the country visit did him some good. Cassi the dog trainer is coming tomorrow.

Love,

k