Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for January, 2009

 

Arriving just in time for dinner.  

dinnertime

 

 

Could someone hit the lights, please?  It's late.

Could someone hit the lights, please? It's late.

 

One would not think it was possible to transport two cats and a crow across country, but I have to say, The Bob behaved better than most peoples human children.  How many crows can say they stayed in seven motels and drove through ten states in the dead heat of Summer?

Although, every once in a while he would stick his beak out of his carrier and poke Tomas in the leg. Not being bad, just reminding us that he was down on the floor and getting bored.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

And it was.  And he was.

happy-jack-road1

Read Full Post »

I started a post on my old friend and employer, Mrs. C, full name – Dr. Marjorie Carpenter, and managed to accidentally delete it. Twice.  I have a feeling I was being too maudlin, and her ghost would have none of that.

Where to start?  She was unique in her wrath and tenacity, long after it mattered.  She knew how to be a friend, yet never seemed comfortable with affection.

She was educated long before it was allowed.  By her mother, from what I gather.  Mrs. C. kept personal information close to her chest, unless she was on her third martini.  That, however,  did not guarantee information, generally, she simply waved a knife in he air and bellowed profanities at whomever was in her path.

She loved to lie about her age, generally rounding up, so I do not know if she was 95, 98, or 102 years old.  I believe I am in the ballpark there.

For those of us who worked for her and had a love/hate relationship with her, she mattered, so much.

Her best friend and confidante, JF, had a poem that was Mrs. C’s favorite. It involves daffodils.

A long time ago when I was broke, my mother, clueless, asked me if I had ever considered being a maid.  I laughed, hard and long.  I asked her if she had ever cleaned houses as her job.

I was met with my mothers classic brand of stumbling word salad that deftly manages to change the subject.

Mrs. C. treated me with more respect than any employer I have ever had.  And yes, I was a “maid” a “House Keeper” an employee.

I have been dreaming about the house on Bonvue Ave., it is a recurrent dream, and I wake up sweaty and sad. In the harsh morning, I am tired, I feel old.

ACK!  2008 there were so many people who are no more. We go on until it is our time, whenever that is.

Just because I am able to acknowledge it does not mean that I accept it with dignity, or even resignation.

Death makes me angry.  However, for those who are out of their failing bodies and minds, I imagine Death is a welcome friend.

I believe it was for Mrs. C., and for her to be free from the limitations of old age and being bedridden, I am happy for her.

For myself, JF, Rover, and a number of others, we will miss her terribly.

 

KMJ

Read Full Post »