furry friends

sitting out here on the zen porch with scout at my feet. beautiful day, it probably hit 80 today. you know how some days are just perfect days weatherwise for wherever you happen to live? few places have all perfect days - and austin in the summer speaks loudly and clearly for its climactic shortcomings. but today was just a great austin day. thanks for that, mother nature.

so i am sitting out here and the usual NYE fireworks are going off every once in a while in the distance. and while scout is not one of those dogs that freaks out about fireworks (that was barley's job, r.i.p.), they do make her slightly uncomfortable and nervous.

we have this on going battle of the wills, scout and i. from my side of things, i am just not a dogs-on-the-furniture kind of person. to each their own, and i love a good dog snuggle, but we happen to have a couple of canines who feel the need for a new coat every DAY so they are ridiculously prolific shedders. that makes me draw the line and so i am a not a dogs-on-the-furniture kind of person. as for scout, other than the fact that she is really a cat dressed in a dog costume, she also has delusions about her royal status and feels entitled, heck compelled, to sneak up (and i do mean sneak, with crafty eyes, a sideways glance, and quick like a fox) on to the furniture every so often when my back is turned. i know she does this way more often than i have ever caught her, as is evidenced by the well defined, circular, hair-filled impression we find on the beds and couches now and again.

this game has gone on for so long - 10 years now - she sneaks up, and if i catch her i tell her to get down. i have never waivered, she has never argued. it's our routine. in fact it has become so familiar for both of us that when i catch her, we only need to exchange a brief (sideways) glance - no words or gestures required.

so back to the zen porch where i am sitting enjoying the gorgeous evening, and a slightly skittish scout (remember the fireworks) is at my feet, and she so wants to come up here on the couch and cuddle up with me. it's like she knows she isn't allowed but she's giving me the sideways glance anyway. i swear she is wondering if i would mind, if i would let her just this once, seeing as how there are fireworks and all. out of my peripheral vision, i can see that she's actually raising one paw and putting it on the couch, all the while giving me the sideways glance. but if i turn and make eye contact with her, the paw goes down and she looks away. it's pretty funny. "who? me? what?"

i can't believe i am even considering it.

happy new year everyone. i hope the new year brings you all these things in spades: the warmth of a perfect weather day (even if your perfect day is a chilly one), the warmth of a furry friend at your feet, and the warmth of knowing that you're experiencing a life well lived.

lessons and carols

This one’s been banging around inside my head for a few weeks. Time to get it out.

It’s Christmas 2011, our first Christmas in our new home. We were able to move in back in February, barely missing Christmas 2010 by >this much<. But Christmas 2010 was spent in the rental house, where we were a bit out of sorts and not really sure what to do with ourselves. Last year Aly came home for her Christmas break from Northeastern and was sorely disappointed because we all seemed to be missing a key ingredient – Christmas spirit. But this Christmas is different – we were ready for it, with eager anticipation, joyful hearts, and about 1000 LED Christmas lights.

Last night we followed our something old/something new Christmas Eve tradition. As of 2010, the new part of our tradition is visiting the local fire station to say thank you and to bring them a holiday card and some homemade goodies. There were about 5 firefighters there when we visited, one of whom had been on the second shift at our fire. He immediately recalled the address and the time as I was explaining who we were. From the bottom of our hearts, we thanked them again and wished them a very boring and quiet Christmas Eve.

Parts two and three of our Christmas Eve tradition were the old standbys: Christmas Eve service at Bethany – the once a year when I get to drag my family to church and no one is allowed to gripe about it (well, they are allowed to gripe - first amendment and all - but they still have to go). Bunch o’ Chreasters. I do love the familiar carols and the fellowship. The service was followed by our usual Christmas Eve dinner at Kobe steakhouse where we inevitably run into people we know and enjoy the handiwork of the sushi chefs (and wine stewards) there. Last night was no exception.

This morning came with a chill and some rain, but it was nice waking up in the new house. Jack and I both commented that we had awakened around 4am but were able to fall back to sleep fairly easily. Not a creature was stirring – and silence never sounded so good. Late morning Jack and I went for our four mile walk/jog around town lake while the kids still slept - and then we came home to a few presents and a blissfully lazy day. Cozy and comfortable, in a beautiful new house.

There’s really not a day that goes by that I’m not cognizant of what it has taken to get us here – and of how many people chipped in to make it possible. I don’t think I will ever get used to it – at least I hope I don’t. To be humbled in this way is really the ultimate gift – and I know I am changed forever. It continues to be just shy of too much to bear, which is a good place to be. And though I am getting used to feeling this way, there is still something new to see and feel at every turn. There are still lessons to be learned.

For two years now we have lived with the desire and determination to repay the tidal wave of kindness and generosity that washed over our family. We daydream about winning the lottery and repaying everyone who sent a dime our way, we look for opportunities to make a difference in the lives of the myriad of people who came to our aid. We look for chances to give back.

But we recently faced the realization that an opportunity to truly repay someone would likely come at a high cost. It's been something of an epiphany for me. I have been so focused on trying to find ways to pay back that I just hadn't realized what those opportunities would really mean for the people I was paying back.

One of the families who came to our rescue – Jim and Sharon and their three girls (friends we used to work with who we really only saw once or twice a year after we no longer worked together) – suffered a tragedy when Jim was unexpectedly and tragically lost in an accident just after Thanksgiving. Despite not seeing them all that often, we knew that we would help. Sharon and Jim showed us that this is the way – whether you see your friends once a day or once in a blue moon, you find a way to help. They had shown up with generous gift cards to both Target and Home Depot that had been donated through their church after they shared our story. Both gift cards were incredibly helpful in putting the finishing touches on the new house, and once again we were humbled by the kindness of strangers and what friends were willing to do for us. Of course we gladly will do whatever we can to now help Sharon and the girls. But in my heart I wish more than anything that this opportunity didn’t exist. I understand now that the opportunity to pay someone back means that they will have to suffer a loss, and for Sharon and their girls – and all of Jim’s family and friends - this loss is heartbreaking. Reminders again that life is precious and fleeting and that everything can change in an instant.

And so it’s with this realization that I now move forward, fervently hoping and wishing that I never ever ever get the opportunity to pay any of you back. I really mean it. Of course if you ever need me, I will be right there to help in whatever way I can. But If I never get the chance to pay you back, I’m ok with that.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.