The crash of Week One

The Earth shook on both coasts this past week:  the quake in Napa and me walking into a college classroom for the first time in 25 years.  I didn’t cause damage to buildings or destroy barrels of expensive wine.  Although putting a dent in a bottle of wine did cross my mind several times.

As I was leaving the office to attend my first class, my co-workers jokingly asked if I had my peanut butter sandwich for recess and hoped all the kiddies would play nice with the new kid.  I have been terrified they would not.

Entering the classroom a little early and seeing a semi-circle of desk set my heart racing.  You can’t hide very well in that type of set up.  The instructor sees all faces.  I knew ahead of time from the classroom assignment that it was a small sized room; you can be slightly unseen if the desk are in normal rows.  I just didn’t want to stand out any more than necessary.  It’s not my style. 

As students began to fill the desk, the instructor scanned the semicircle, back and forth.  Her eyes never resting on one particular person.  At one point I thought she did a double take when looking at me.  Maybe it was just me being overly sensitive of the fact that I am 30 plus years older than the average student.  It’s completely obvious, if only to me.   Again, me feeling out of place and being that “girl”.

Introductions were made and the first assignment began, students had to interview each other.  Oh geez!  I don’t particularly care for this type of thing.  It means we will be doing a group work later.  Thus the point of getting to know each other up front.   I don’t mind finding out information about other people, I just don’t like giving it away in a face to face situation.  Blogging of course is okay.  You don’t see me; I don’t see your reaction. (chuckle chuckle)

I heard their reaction when my interviewer introduced me: stating the obvious: second degree, 5 children, with 30,000 extra because I work at the University.  It’s a true statement.  I do consider their successes my own.  I think many employees feel the same: we are invested in their future.   This is a class of interesting young people with bright ideas, quick minds.  I found eyes bouncing around the room trying to following each comment.

Then of course there was the homework.  What?  Homework on the first day? It was piled on like a free all you can eat buffet.   Thinking of getting a jump start on the semester, I did the first assignment ahead of schedule and submitted it.  I have other deadlines in my other world. Wow!  I thought I was so cool: This was going to be okay. I had a strategy.

  I received a notice the next morning saying I had completed the wrong assignment.  Drat. Panic. Double Drat. Double Panic. At the time I was in my office and had no means of fixing the situation.  At lunch I went home and began working on the correct assignment, finishing it after work and making the rest of the family late for a birthday party for my 6 year old grandson.  Apparently the Giant Mouse in charge of the party was busy eating cheese in a back room and didn’t mind that Nana was doing her homework. 

Except for the births of my children, I don’t think I have ever been so tired and nervous at the same time.  My social life has suffered a little, the house is a wreck (perfect excuse right?), the dog is jealous of the space on the couch that my textbooks now occupy and my 11 is complaining that she doesn’t have access to my laptop. 

All damage assessments have not been compiled at this time.  A full report will be issued later.  One can only hope that the aftershocks will be minor, no more wine be wasted and everyone gets out safely, sanity intact.

If you want to help Earthquake victims, Please donate to the American Red Cross.

Peace.

NEPB

She bought the book.

The world is a busy place. I could stop there because that first sentence is enough for everyone to understand the structure of human existence.

I’ve been away from that place of social media.  I haven’t posted random thoughts, pictures of the kids, the dog although   she continues to be exceptionally cute.  I didn’t mention my kitchen disasters: there were many.   I missed my friend’s events, important events. 

I instead found myself needing a break to prepare to buy the book.  I didn’t write this book.  I feel l know this book.  This book probably knows me.  Still I had to convince myself to buy the book; sit down and force myself to log on  and buy the book.

I searched high and low for this book for the past month; campus book stores, used online markets, thrift store shelves.  I put it off till I felt I could wait no longer.  My friends began bugging me the other night at dinner, “Did you buy your book?”  “No” A big slug from my drink, “I will as soon as I get home.”  Eyes rolled around the table; all of them judging me just as I judge myself.

I start back to college in a week to begin work on a second degree.  Me, over 50, I won’t give away my need for wrinkle cream.  I have a demanding job, children, grandchildren, a Significant Other,  home, choir, a Life; all things I fear could come crashing down around me while struggling with assignments, course work.

The finality of buying the book was a giant leap forward. “Now you really have to do it” I told my Collie that night.  Her ears perked up, expecting a treat.    I will have to train myself better than my dog if I expect to get through the semester.   She will get a one of those special bones from the pet store when I get my “A”.  I will settle for the grades. 

Fear surrounds me. The image of me sitting in a classroom of twenty some-things with the brain power to take over the world is daunting. This generation currently enrolled in the University has intellect unmatched by none before them.  I have seen this first hand. I come in contact with these brilliant individuals every day of my working life.  To be put into a class room and expect myself to keep up with them makes my brain ache.  

Administrators, former professors;(yes!) Some are still here, and friends have told me that my life experiences will contribute greatly to my new degree.  Oh really?  Just how does that get the assignment done?   Will that help when my 11 year old needs help with her homework and I have a report due?  Who gets priority?   I feel the panic beginning to stir.  I felt it in January when my status changed and I became a student again.  I felt it again in April when I enrolled in classes for the Fall semester.

 It resembles that feeling you get before a full blown sinus infection: scratchy feeling in your nose and throat, not too bad, just a little irritating.  The next thing you know … BOOM.  You feel awful. Wondering why you didn’t seek professional help when you first felt the symptoms so you could stop this bug dead in its tracks.

Buying the book means I have accepted the BUG.  I can’t stop it now.  The only medicine will be to finish the course as prescribed even though the side effects may be detrimental.   It’s written on all medication labels:” possible side effects may include:  Irritability, inability to concentrate, sleeplessness, dizziness, etc…”

The book is set to be delivered in less than 72 hrs.  I will spend that time putting my house in order as if a special guest were arriving. My world is going to change; for the better.

Peace.

NEPB

Where are the Dogs?

 I had the pleasure of visiting Louisville Kentucky: a beautiful city on the banks of the Ohio River.  The views of the river were spectacular for this gal who has a wonderment of the water.  Louisville’s old Architecture and history can be seen on nearly every street blending with the new.  Of course being the home of Churchill downs and smack down in horse country, many things have a horse theme.  What I didn’t see were dogs.  Where were the dogs?

In a city of 700k+ someone has to own a dog right?  I live in a small town of 42k (maybe, I am not going to bore you with statistics) When I go to the market on Saturday morning there are people there walking 2 and 3 dogs. Many have more dogs than children.  ( I have to concede that we have a large student population)

As we were walking along the city streets of Louisville last week, I asked my Significant Other (SIG)“Where are the dogs?”  He answered “ It’s a city.  People don’t own dogs in a city.”  The discussion began.

Yes they do.  We were obviously in an apartment complex area: balconies filled with tables and planters, wind chimes hanging from the railings, People strolling sidewalks for the evening.  No dogs in sight.  In New York City a few years earlier people appeared out of high rise buildings to walk their dogs.  There were dogs everywhere.  I had been impressed by these city dwellers love of my favorite companion animal.

Louisville however had no dogs. A long walk by the river’s edge the next morning, seemingly the perfect place to walk a dog proved this again.  Where were the dogs?  Was there a city ordinance on dogs? Maybe, it is horse country and they don’t want doggy germs infecting their prize horses.  There wasn’t anyone taking their horse out for an early morning potty break. There was the horse drawn carriage; that doesn’t count.   SIG pointed out that if he were a landlord he wouldn’t allow pets of any kind in a high rise building.  GASP.  That is sacrilege and very dangerous to say to a woman when walking along a large river.

I grew up dogs.  A German Sheppard “Pal” was my first companion.  I was two.  We still talk about her.  Our dog days continued after Pal, sometimes we had 2 dogs at a time.  Ivan: the sneeze for a cookie English setter who liked to sit in the flower beds and point bugs.  There was Merlin, the German Pointer a Houdini of the leash who ran faster than any Churchill down horse. I could have used him last week to win some bets. The list could go on, but you get it.  I love dogs as does my family.

My youngest daughter always replies “a puppy” asked what she wants for any gift. I have already decided not visit her when she is grown because there will nowhere to sleep due to dog infestation.  She needs to become a veterinarian and get some of this out her system.  Ha!  In a recent phone conversation with my oldest daughter, she was sending her husband sad songs because they had to put Lucy the dog in the kennel for a weekend while they traveled.  Lucy is her child and she misses her terribly the instant she is gone.  No one but a dog owner can understand this. 

And there’s my question again.  Where were the dogs?  I want to see dogs when I go somewhere.  I need to walk up to dogs and scratch their ears.  I have to have my dog fix because I am missing my dog so much.   I have taken dogs on vacation with me, always considering the situations.  I understand that dogs are not appropriate in all situations. My current canine has a several considerations.

O’Keeffe is a small Border collie mix, doesn’t like buses, large crowds and wants to lick all people for signs of stray food particles.  This is sometimes annoying to strangers.  We find it helpful when large spillage occurs.  See!  Dogs can be useful in cities.   

As a very biased dog owner, I obviously didn’t understand the absence of dogs in Louisville.  It was a wonderful place to visit:  Great sights, good food, nice people, overabundance of Bourbon.  Did I mention they make Bourbon nearby?  As always it is nice to return  to your children, home and dog!

There now O’Keeffe…. That’s a GOOD Dog!!!!  

(Georgia O’Keeffe, Keeffe for short, was a “free puppy” in clothes basket .  I rescued/ adopted her 4 years ago this weekend at an Art show thus the artsy name.  She was from a litter a 8 and had not been given proper care.  She is extremely smart.  A typical border collie, she has OCD, a ferocious bark and a long list of tricks.  We love her to the moon and back.  Best Free money I ever spent! )

If you are looking for a pet, please consider a shelter animal first.

Peace.

NEPB

What the Purpose in cleaning?

Sitting here with my trusty collie beside me while the floors dry,  I wonder what is the purpose?  What is the deal with all this cleaning?  Scrubbing floors,  dusting a second time in 2 weeks, vacuuming the corners  and moving furniture to get every last dust bunny that dare escape my scrutiny.

It’s graduation time in my house.  We will celebrate my youngest son’s high school accomplishments this weekend.  Family and friends will be here roasting this humble child who is the apple of his mother’s eye.  (don’t tell my other 4 children)  I have been preparing my home for this day for the past 2 months.  My psyche may never be prepared.

Most of the celebrating will take place outside, with much wondering in and out of the ever slamming screen door.  I had to question my motives while scrubbing and steaming the floors.  Is this really necessary?

Consider this:  Everything outside is going to be walked in and out several hundred times. ( Especially if the grandchildren make an appearance)  All invitees are family and close friends: they know my laid back style and sense of humor.  I’m not going to serve them from dirty plates or moldy food.  All bets are off on the slightly over- doneness (is that really a word) of said food.   President Obama isn’t coming so I don’t have to really clean that much; besides he is afraid of my Mother and respectfully declined the invitation.  It would be so cool though, right?

I’m not a slob.  I vacuum weekly, wash dishes every night out of necessity mostly and the bathroom gets cleaned weekly and again when I start raising my voice at the children.   I’m not OCD like some in my family who shall remain nameless nor am I completely out of control like others who again shall remain nameless.  My home is controlled chaos.

As a single woman who works 40 hours a week, has a social life, keeps up with her children and believes that 8 hours of sleep makes you BRILLIANT:  sometimes cleaning is the last thing needing attention.  Life is too important to worry about a dust bunny in a corner or the miniature Christmas tree that hasn’t made it to storage yet.   Lately I have found myself working overtime to get things done, clean this place up.

Why?  Plain and simple answer: Stress.  My 4^th child is graduating.  4 out of 5:  Sounds like a commercial for a medical product. “4 out of 5 Moms recommend cleaning to get over the stress of your child graduating.”  No it just gives you too much time to think about the years past.  Cleaning up after an illness,  a toy box explosion  involving several cans of play-dough and other unidentifiable substances. There was the fingernail polish on the white rug experiment when he was 3 which had closely followed the red sharpie target drawing on his bedroom wall.  At the time I thought he was going to be an artist.  Not happening.   Washing the child and his clothing when he and his brother rolled in every mud puddle they could find in a ten mile radius; some of those clothes had to be thrown out due to extreme mud infestation.  There is only so much cleaning one mother and a machine can accomplish. 

Cleaning does relieve some of the stress.  It gives you the quiet time you need.  Everyone disappears when you start the serious cleaning.   You can scrub away some of the anxiety, think through some of the unanswered questions,   and share a few smiles and laughs with yourself over those times past.

The future is dirty.  There will be other messes that require attention: some seeming unnecessary, some just for the sake of cleaning.  So here’s to the future:  may yours be filled with memories that last a lifetime.

Peace.

NEPB