Pondering the world

Bottger Mansion of Old Town

Victorian bed & breakfast in historic Old Town Albuquerque, New Mexico
110 San Felipe Street NW, Albuquerque, NM   87104
(800) 758-3639
www.bottger.com
 

Do not go gentle into that good night

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

--Dylan Thomas

a big hole in our family

Very early Monday morning, Steve's mother passed away.  She died much the way she lived, quietly and without great fanfare, but on her own terms.

Bobbie Hiatt was diagnosed with ideopathic pulmonary fibrosis in 2004.  Ideopathic basically means they don't know what causes it, which also means there is very little treatment and no cure.  It is a slow progressive disease that causes hardening of the lungs, gradually starving the body of oxygen.  It is always fatal.

She lived for four years after the diagnosis, a full year longer than the original three years she was told to expect.  That additional year allowed her to attend the wedding in August of her oldest granddaughter, our daughter, her last trip, for which we will always be grateful.

The last three months have been particularly difficult as she lost weight, needed increasing amounts of concentrated oxygen, and became completely housebound.  Other diseases of aging can cause loss of memory or recognition, but Mom was completely aware of her condition and alert until the end.  Her life became a delicate balance between uncomplaining acceptance and not going "gentle into that good night."  She has always accepted the challenges and disappointments of life with grace and gentle humor.  But her inner self raged against her condition and her fate, since the women in her family have all lived well into their 90's with good health and sharp wit.  At age 79, she was gypped out of at least a decade of living to see all the grandchildren grown and settled with children of their own.

As the disease progressed and her body became frail and weak, she watched her independence slip away.  She needed others to help her perform even the smallest functions in life.  Her world narrowed further with loss of hearing and diminishing eyesight, and finally she decided she was ready to go.  In the deep stillness of the night, she slipped away, when she chose, on her own terms. 

She is at last at rest.

yard art

My yard art tends to be a little quirky.  I like to put unexpected things in unexpected places.  Here are a few examples:

And my personal favorite, the Yardbirds.  Wasn't that the name of a group in the 60's?

10 words to avoid when writing

Precise Edit ("providing clarity and grace for your writing") says one shouldn't use these words when writing:

really, you, used to, a lot, feel, think, sort of/kind of, like, just, as

But wait.  Most of my writing is on this blog, which is conversational, like I'm telling you about what's going on in my life, if you even care.  And those are some of my favorite words.

So now I feel like just as I'm kind of getting into the habit of writing something for you every day, someone comes along and tells me that a lot of my favorite words are bad writing.  I really think I'm getting better since I write more than I used to.

Did I get them all?

making something out of nothing

These are the drawers from the yucky cabinets I pulled out of the storage building.  They are now sifter boxes.  They even have handles on them for easy moving.

I left one drawer as the bottom catch basin.

I cut a square out of the bottom of the other drawer, stapled in a bigger square of wire mesh, and screwed some wood scraps on top of those nasty raw edges.  The wire mesh has holes just the right size to allow hollyhock seeds to drop through, keeping the empty husks on top.  That's what you see here.  I've collected about a quarter of a gallon bucket of hollyhock seeds so far.

Today I realized I can also use it at Christmas, after we've gathered up the used luminarias, to screen the chunks of candle wax out of the sand so I can re-use the sand again next year.

Reduce, re-use, recycle.

how does my garden grow?

Just a little update on the raised bed garden.  Here's the mixed squash and lemon cucumbers in one bed.  I now have a couple of little yellow crookneck squash about four inches long.  They grow so much every day that I'll have to watch them and pick them as soon as they're ready.  Otherwise, I'll have a bed full of baseball bats.  I like 'em young and tender. 

Then there are the tomatoes.  From right to left are grape tomatoes (which don't seem to be doing very well), Super Fantastic, San Marzano and Mr. Stripy, which is an heirloom tomato and spreading all over the place.  Maybe it's a good thing my peppers didn't make it--something ate the sprouts as soon as they came up.  There wouldn't be room for them in front of the tomatoes.

And finally, the okra and my new peppers.  I have no idea why about a foot of okra seeds didn't come up.  The nasturtiums didn't come up at all.  This is about my third attempt with them, so now I give up.  I bought four pepper plants yesterday that are about the same size as the peppers would have been if I'd grown them from seed.

a summer cold is a different animal!

All right!  Anyone who was an adult or a kid in the 1960's, sing along!  Come on, you remember the jingle to this commercial...

 

A summer cold is a different animal!  An ugly animal--ooo!
It hits you in the stomach, and you don't know what to doooooooooo!

And the product was.....  Contac cold medicine, which tried to get you to buy their cold medicine by telling you that a summer cold was different, and their cold medicine would take care of it and other cold medicine would not.

I am just finishing up a nasty summer cold which, in spite of our care and best efforts, has now been passed on to my husband.

And that ugly animal, before it makes a departure, has settled in my right maxillary sinus and evolved into a sinus infection that is sitting right on top of my jaw, resulting in the feeling of having a toothache AND sinus congestion AND feeling like someone punched me in the eyeball.

Sing it, baby.

the answer they don't want to hear

The other day we were in a restaurant seated by the front window.  As I looked out, I saw one of those mobile advertising vehicles with the changing signs drive by, and the message on it said:

Why waste your money on advertising?  Call us at xxx-xxxx!

We looked at each other and said at the same time, "The answer to that question would be.....   'So I can waste my money on advertising WITH YOU?'" 

That's probably not the answer they were hoping to get.

siesta in Old Town

This is the calico kitty who lives up the street at the store called Blackstone.

It's obviously a cool and comfy place for a nap.

Steve is also obviously having a good time with the camera on his new Blackberry.

no wirty dirds here

I recently had a conversation with a couple at breakfast.  Nice people, but boy, was he a straight arrow.  He couldn't even bring himself to say "Democrat," being a staunch Republican.  His phrase was "person of the other political persuasion."

We talked about what we've all done in our lives.  For a long time he was a college professor and over the summer breaks he would work as a private investigator and process server for an attorney friend.  He told an interesting story about a woman who was particularly difficult to serve and how he finally managed to do it by tricking her--he showed up at her front door on her birthday with a "flower delivery."  She was really mad at him, and he said as he was walking away she called him a "wirty dird."

Holy cow!  He had a euphemism for a euphemism!

I spent four years in the Army acquiring some very colorful language and the next 30 years trying to clean it up.  I can probably make a good guess at what she called him.