"Woven in Prayer" - Part One

My quaint old house faces a busy side street with a covered porch nestled within the long arms of a maple tree.  It's character weathered by time as it bravely looks out over the ever-changing world atop a secluded little hill.  My husband has plans to enclose a portion of the area to create a formal foyer inside.  But until then, MY plans are to create a quiet and welcoming spot to greet friends, watch birds and read the morning paper - anything that will fill the large, cold and cracked concrete vacancy. 

...and so begins my search for a wicker chair...

When I was a young girl, I often thought I had been born into the wrong era.  Even into my teen years, I collected things that would today be flea market treasures and surrounded myself with what they now call shabby chic decor.  My style had less to do with a lack of fashion or design sense, but more out of love for all things Victorian in look and feel.  Fine linens and floral china patterns, soft colors and airy ferns - even hair bound into a loose Gibson.  Thank goodness it was the 80's and those awful doily collars WERE in style!

...but I never got my wicker chair...

I had wanted one; high in back and painted white.  A place to throw a few pillows that I had stitched out of Granny's old hankies or curl up with a good book and a tattered quilt from the hope chest.  A symbol of solitude and protection to me - of a simpler time.  That is just what my front porch needed now!  In this age of blinding internet speed, I looked towards the first place I knew to hunt one down, Craigslist of course.  My initial search came up empty with sets that were too modern or too far away or too...something.  I just wasn't feeling it.  So I continued my day as usual, not giving the subject much more thought.  

I typically take a break at lunchtime to walk my dog and clear my head.  It is during this time that I focus not only on the task at hand, but on private meditation that may turn into informal prayer.  My talks with God have been more like requests lately when it comes to "the baby thing"; asking for an open mind into new opportunities, wide eyes to recognize one when it is right in front of me and for a prepared heart into the unknown - and for peace.  Such was my prayer that day. 

At the end of my work day, I felt rushed to get it all wrapped up so I could head out and catch my nephew's baseball game.  It was sunny and I had been missing the kiddos!  As I started to fly out the door I halted to run back and grab the cell phone I had forgotten still charging in the office; waving a "just a second!" hand at my impatient husband who was revving up the engine and waiting for me in the driveway.  I grabbed the phone and glanced at the computer left open on the desk.  The wicker chair flashed in my head.  "Oh, I'll just check once more", I thought.  

There...on the very top listing, just posted a few minutes before, was not ONE chair but TWO!  Painted an updated brown, adorned with tastefully simple cushions, at the right price and close-ish to home.  Like a cat on a mouse, I pounced; not only emailing but calling as well - afraid I would miss my chance to snag them if I didn't harass the poor sellers.  Never once did it cross my mind that it might be a scam or that I might need to be careful for weirdos - I wanted those chairs darnnit!  The next day, I was making arrangements to pick up MY 'new' wicker chairs.

The story ends there, right?  Not so fast.

My drive to claim the bounty was about 45 minutes - plenty of time for wandering thoughts and more talks to myself and to God.  I felt blessed to have healed from so much going on lately, that my elders that recently landed in the hospital were also on their way to recovery and that things at work were starting to stabilize again - and that my house was REALLY starting to feel like home.  The urge to nest was returning and I embraced it.

I arrived at the sellers' home.  It was warm and welcoming with a cute wreath on the door.  I rang the bell and was greeted by the woman-of-the-house, tall and slender with the auburn hair I have always envied.  I was graciously received inside where her husband led us all down to finalize the sale.  Conversation was easy and I didn't lift a finger as the goods were loaded and strapped up for me in the back of the truck.  I had enjoyed the process and was happy to have 'clicked' with this charming couple.  Off I went.

More time for my thoughts to meander as I drove back home.  I found myself recalling the details of the couple's newly finished basement and appreciating the decor - paying special attention to the landing at the foot of the stairs where children had been playing with a toy car track of some kind.  They had mentioned two children, young but not babies, a few years apart.  What an absolute charming family.  I silently wished them well.  

Once home, I couldn't wait to set up my front porch!  I had purchased a large outdoor rug to cover up the barren and damaged concrete slab.  I was afraid that the double package would be too large, but they fit perfectly, looking like they had always been there - like they belonged.  A side table and a potted flower later...and WHAM!...instant cozy completeness!  It felt like a peaceful little sanctuary.  

I had some work to complete, so headed back to my laptop.  Just then an email popped up from the mother whom had found a new home for her wicker chairs, checking to make sure I had made it back without blowing away.  I responded and couldn't resist including a quick snapshot of the new digs.  I finished up the loose ends that had taken me back to my office and closed it down for the weekend ahead; throughout which I told everybody who cared (and I'm sure some that didn't) about my little story and the nice little family I got to meet. 

When I returned to get a head start and clean out junk emails from my work email account on Sunday night, I saw that I had missed a few from the seller.  She had followed-up with a quick inquiry about my blog and "the baby thing", apologizing if she had crossed the line and adding that her interest was peaked not out of some weird nosiness, but from experience and wanted to offer any help if she could be of any resource to me.  You see, her children are adopted.

Little could I have ever conceived on my own that my childhood desire for a woven symbol of refuge would turn into a present-day obsession to fill a tangible void.  An indirect answer to prayers?  The start of something bigger to which I am being prepped?  Or just a far-fetched coincidence and an over-emotional heart and an over-imaginative brain.

I have a feeling this is not the end of The Wicker Chairs Story, do you?

The Furbaby

If it weren't for Todd, I would have taken in any stray animal or person who needed a home in the last 15 years. Thankfully, he is my intervention from truly being the crazy cat lady. But Sadie is a different story...

Once upon a sunny Saturday, I was busy spring-cleaning while my husband was at work. Our typical suburban neighborhood was bustling with kids riding bikes, dads mowing their lawns and moms cleaning out their minivans. I noticed a cluster of people starting to gather on my street and didn't really think twice about it when my doorbell rang. My German Shepherd, Talon, perked up to help me answer. A little boy stood there looking up at me with his big brown eyes and asked me if I would take his dog. He said her name was Sandie because that was the color of her fur.

One look at what lie in my yard melted my heart. Sweet eyes begged at me through a sort of haze and buggars. A pink nose twitched at me through its scratches and scabs. Soft pale skin reddened under the sun where huge patches of hair no longer protected. As I walked over to this ragamuffin, it rolled over happily for a tummy rub to which I obliged. Big chest bone and nothing more held her together. The boys' mother explained that they had found her a few days prior on the side of the highway near our home and that she has small children at home and just couldn't keep her. She had asked everyone in the neighborhood but nobody would take her. This was her last block - and we were her last house.

I recognized the breed. StaffOrdSomething Terrior, Bulldog, Amercian SomethingOrOther Terrior...it didn't matter...all I saw was a Pitbull. The same kind of pitbull exploited in the news tearing off the faces of little children. The same kind of pitbull that had been splashed over the internet as being dangerous and fighting dogs. THAT kind of pitbull. Illegal in the town and at the home in which I lived.

Now this is where my husband and I disagree. I could SWEAR that I told the family that I just couldn't take her; that he came home just an hour or so later and the family was still hustling the hood when they caught him in the driveway and the pitbull suckered him into it's heart. HE says that he drove up about the same time they were there and I am the one that suckered HIM! Regardless, we became the parents of a truly PITiful dog.

She looked more like a Sadie than a Sandie to me - or maybe I just couldn't get that Little Orphan Annie dog out of my head or the Tomorrow song that came with it - and so her name was changed. She and Talon hit it off immediately. My cat soon also warmed up and they are still best buds. That first night, she slept in our bed, under the covers between us like a little human - head on my pillow and spooned up agaist me. We have slept like that every since.

I immediately took her to the vet the following Monday. Dr Denny, indeed, labeled her a pitbull and gave us antibiotics to heal her open lacerations (presumably from fighting), gave her meds for mange and worms and all other icky things and sent us home with a puppy kit - estimating her age to be about 6 months old. Once her body was healed, she seemed to be adjusting in every other way with Talon leading the pack (insert obvious foreshadowing here). We all went on walks around the neighborhood, enjoyed the freedom of my parents farm off leash and went to Todd's softball games to hang out with other dog lovers in the bleachers.

We shortly moved into an apartment in the city where pitbulls are legal. I started a new job and my husband started school. The animals spent more time at home alone and less time doing extracurricular activities. I began to notice Sadie being territorial when we had visitors and she started being aggressive towards other animals. A few years later, Talon passed away in the living room. Later even after that, Sadie became so aggressive to anybody outside her own pack that she was pretty much isolated from anything fun except for our long daily walks on a leash (fun for her, but not for the one she pulled at the sight of another living thing).

We then moved to our current construction nightmare and I began working from home. Her behavior has gradually escalated. She growls and lunges at any visitor even while in her kennel or having her muzzle on. Walks are impossible if there is a loose dog in the neighborhood that might approach us. So bad has it become, that we are unable to leave her at the doggie resort while on vacation anymore. She is too fearful and they would have to tranquilize her, causing even more mental trauma. Today, during her yearly checkup at her usual vet - she lunged at the doctor sounding vicious. When corrected, she assumed her usual position right under me and between my legs in a guarding position (or 'right up in ya' as my husband refers to it). Fear and protective. Not a good mix. I held back my tears.

We got through the visit and I was even invited back next year thanks to the great staff at Ark Animal Clinic. They assured me that I am not a horrible owner and referred me to a local animal behaviorist. Is this a glimpse of my parenting skills? Are we doomed to raise a Monster (another loving nickname from Todd when referring to Sadie).

So this is my test. And I am up for it. No more excuses. No more anxiety. No more trying. Just doing. I want Sadie to be healthy and enjoy life again. Dogs are a man's best friend. But Sadie has been my Furbaby....filling the void of losing our beloved 'first child' and the urge to be a real mother. But I need us to develop a working relationship as human and dog so that we can expand our family to a real baby.

...to live happily ever after!

Wish me luck!

Important Health Bulletin

No deep thoughts today - only a funny to help lighten the mood with great advice from my "Tequila" friend :) CHEERS to you all!

Click on the pix at the left. Fun book from one of my favorite online stores!

IMPORTANT HEALTH ADVICE FOR WOMEN:

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Do you suffer from shyness?

Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, ask your doctor or Pharmacist about Margaritas.

• Margaritas are the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions.

• Margaritas can help ease you out of your shyness and let you tell the world that you're ready and willing to do just about anything.

• You will notice the benefits of Margaritas almost immediately and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that prevent you from living the life you want to live.

• Shyness and awkwardness will be a thing of the past and you will discover many talents you never knew you had. Stop hiding and start living, with Margaritas.

Margaritas may not be right for everyone. Women who are pregnant or nursing should not use Margaritas. However, women who wouldn't mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.

Side effects may include:

• Dizziness, nausea, vomiting, incarceration
• Erotic lustfulness
• Loss of motor control
• Loss of clothing
• Loss of money
• Loss of virginity
• Loss of bladder control
• Attraction to ugly men
• Table dancing
• Headache
• Dehydration
• Dry mouth
• And a desire to sing Karaoke
  

WARNING:
The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you are whispering when you are not.

WARNING:
The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.

WARNING:
The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to think you can sing.

WARNING:
The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.

*Margaritas are also available in generic form, known as tequila!!!!
Just as effective and costs only a fraction.

Making It

Between making a house, making a baby and making ends meet - I guess the stress is hitting us a bit more than we had anticipated.

It is ironic that during this time in our lives, my husband and I are doing more TOGETHER than we ever have in our long (almost) 17 year past - yet the distance between us sometimes seems oceanic. I know that all couples go through this at one time or another. Building the nest, emptying the nest, flying the entire darn coop! They are all stages in life that require some adjustment and changes. Hopefully, both man and wife will have evolved together more wise, more fun, and more in love than ever.

Also ironic is all the advice about stress - that adds to the stress - of why we aren't getting pregnant. Words of wisdom like: "You are just trying to hard." or "When the time is right it will just happen - relax!" or my favorite, "Give it time, nature will eventually take its course" to which the responses I keep privately in my head are always gracious ;) Stress is a HUGE factor in getting pregnant, both naturally and assisted, accounting for up to 30% of infertility-related problems. I found a great article on the subject on WebMD.

When thinking about stress and how it relates to me personally, I am reminded (and encouraged!) that I have always been one to work best under stress - and usually at things to which I do not excel nor put forth 100%. I am not a planner or at strategist. A bit of a procrastinator at heart, I typically fly by the seat of my pants and very much live in the moment.

For example, in high school track I ran hurdles. At 5'2" my coaches used to laugh that I was so short my legs barely even touched the ground anyway, so why not! I never had perfect form; being too short to 3-step and too awkward to 4-step. I had my own style and did it my way. I would get insanely nervous and nauseous before each meet to the point I had to convince everyone I was not about to die and to just let me wipe off my face...and let me run. Though I never felt prepared and my muscles never felt completely stretched out - I knew I just had to go for it. I would get down on my mark; feeling the hot asphalt on my hands and place them within millimeters of the starting line. Get set; looking up at the perfect line of obstacles ahead of me. GO!

I would roll out of the blocks, not with a rocket burst like my competitors, but staying low and gradually lifting towards the first hurdle, reaching my left hand to touch my right lead foot that glided my horizontal body over it with an undetectable brush of my trailing thigh. I did not look at the finish line. I barely looked a the next hurdle. I was only partially aware of the others in my peripherals as I closed the space between us until they all but disappeared (I like to think behind me!). I did feel the rhythm beneath my own feet; however random that might have been to those watching, and instinctively knew when to lift - and when to dig...deep to the end. And when it was over? I was always rewarded with a medal. Not always first! But never last.

This is a template for all other things in my life. Late night drafting projects in college that produced designs still used in local office spaces today. Countless journalism deadlines I thought I would never make as I sat down to a blank piece of paper with no ideas that produced published works. Sales goals that I thought impossible to meet that came down to the wire when a business connection was made at the last minute and unexpected to help pull a team through. Why should making a baby be any different than making it through anything else in my life.

I know why. Because this is a team effort and not an individual sport. And this stress is not my own.

So between making the baby...and making the house...and making ends meet - I am reminded that this IS, actually, a terrific time to be in love and take the opportunity to grow closer together and not let an ugly thing like STRESS pull us apart. It is the first time that we are actually making things happen - making goals, making progress, and making life meaningful!

....just run. Dig deep 'till the end.


In the words of vintage America's Sweetheart, Mary Richards, "We're gonna make it after all!"

Inspired by Robins

Spring defines the birth of new beginnings.

One comforting memory is my mother's yearly excitement as she would point out to me the first robin of the season. Her eyes would sparkle and we would anxiously and vigilantly wait for the first glance of those amazing blue eggs. Perfect with each one uniquely speckled. As I grew older, she still sometimes calls, "Spring is here! I just saw my first robin!"

Today, as I watch fat little robins waddle through my yard, busy in loving preparation for mommyhood - I am reminded of my own natural urge to nest. While the instinct of nesting is common in women who are pregnant to full term, some of us are hard-wired to bustle about looking for the next home project at any given point in our lives. I am one of those people.

Like a bird without a tree during the renovation of our house that has taken over a year to complete, I find my creative juices stifled and my sense of security often on the edge. As a self proclaimed homebody, decorating it is how I express myself - currently a hunger that goes unfed! My storage space (and my neighbors garage) is a collection full of art and furniture I hope to soon reveal; things for my new kitchen, dining and living room with no idea how any of it will match. An eclectic little collage of things I love....for every room except a nursery.

Our modest house is basically now a bedroom and a half since restructuring the old floor plan. When guests stop by to see our building progress, I present the smallest room as my office.....or nursery my voice will trail. I try to avoid letting my brain go there. I do not want to set myself up for heartbreak - creating the baby room of my dreams with no signs of baby-to-be. But the nester inside me does not always keep those wanderings at bay.

..and so I am inspired by the robin and her eggs. I love the metaphor as I also prepare a home with love in shades of blues, greens, browns and taupe. As I flip through magazine clippings in my worn "Inspiration Folder" I see reference of this color and hints of 'bird style' with a modern twist. My own teal dishes and accents begging to come out of the closet to help me hearken the warm weather to brighten my day.

So as I decorate my "office" I will keep these things in mind and cautiously create a space that can easily convert into a nursery. ;)



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