Bad Fences Make Good Neighbors

I was working in my yard yesterday when a stray dog ran up to our beagle, Dirk.  The dog had tags and was recently groomed, but wouldn't let me come close.  As it ran off again, I made a quick mental inventory of the dogs in our neighborhood (all small and well-groomed), and finally decided he might belong to a couple around the corner from us.  So I left my gardening and walked down to inquire.

I'd met the lady before and remembered her dog's name was Khaki.  Khaki was home, but the neighbor lady said "let's go down to see if this is Jerry's dog!"  So off we went through the neighborhood.  We walked and talked, found the dog's owner in record time (not Jerry, but another neighbor's college kid home with the dog, which promptly escaped under the fence).   However, my new friend and I weren't done talking...so she came back to the house with me to see the chicken ladies.  The dogs all came out to investigate her and we sat and talked a while longer, then looked at my garden, admired the flowers, and she invited me down to see HER garden, her dobro-playing husband and her 25 year old cockatiel.  Off we went, talking all the while.

My new friend's name is LaVada Partain.  She and her husband Jim are retired and have lived in our neighborhood for 42 years.  Like me, she is an animal lover, gardener and big talker.  Despite our age difference, we have many mutual acquaintances and share a love of cooking and talking about cooking.  She had actually saved the newspaper article I was interviewed for because she saw my recipe and wanted to try it.  Was I ever flattered, and was she ever shocked to see me quoted in the article!  And most amazing of all--her birthday is September 4th, same as mine.

I left LaVada's house with a handful of herb clippings to root for my own garden, a phone number and e-mail address so we can keep in touch better, and a huge smile on my face.  Thank goodness for a fence that wasn't dog-proof...and for the unexpected Saturday blessing of a new friend.

Can I Get A Zzzz-Zzzz?

I REALLY love to sleep.  I love my bed but actually, I love any flat surface...which is the only way I can sleep, flat somewhere...and I can fall asleep pretty quickly.  I love naps, sleeping in, sleeping late, sleeping with a dog or a cat or a snuggly kid. Or even my husband (though he snores, which causes me to sleep with earplugs). You get the picture.

I come from a family of  sleepers and nappers.  My grandfather came in every day at lunch from his farming and ranching chores to eat lunch and nap on the couch in the front room (where the window unit was) for an hour.  My aunt Charlotte was famous for taking a nap every single day--even with 3 kids in the house, who used a label maker one afternoon to create a sign for her door that said "day sleper" .  Even now, my own parents take an entire pot of coffee back to bed with them every morning and sit in the dark like vampires, drinking coffee till it's gone and they're awake enough to greet the day.

My mom had to practically manhandle me out of bed in the mornings to get me ready for the bus on time and even as a young mother, I felt like my brain was full of glue when I'd get up with the kids.  My kids were the same way, to the point where I broke my little finger trying to get one of the boys out of bed for high school.  Only my daughter could actually get herself up before 6 to get ready for Belles practice, then she'd have to wake me up so I could take her to the stadium.

In the past few years though I've noticed a trend to the other side....wakefulness.  It's a new sensation for me and I don't know how to cope with it.  Sunday afternoon naps are a thing of the past and I find myself waking up at 6:45 on mornings I don't work--and getting out of bed!  I've discovered the distinctly old-lady pleasure of sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee, watching the chickens in the yard and hearing the birds sing.  I can't remember the last time I slept past 9 a.m.  Since my alarm goes off at 5:45 most mornings, I guess sleeping till 7 is practically 'sleeping in' for me.  I enjoy the peace and quiet of the house in the mornings before everyone is up and moving around for the day, particularly those weekends when kids are home from college or in town for a visit.  Sometimes I even have time to accomplish a project or task before everyone else is up.   I try not to admit to myself that it IS an old-lady thing...but I know it is. 

I smile when I read posts on Facebook about exhausted young mothers who just wish they could sleep in ONE MORNING...because I remember feeling the same way.   Having grown kids is a strange business. THEY'RE the ones sleeping in when they're home now---even on Christmas morning, when I have to actually go wake them up to tell them Santa's come again.  Long gone are the days when they'd be staring into my face at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, long before I was ready to wake up.

I do miss being able to sleep late...and take a long nap...and I am gradually coming to admit that it truly IS yet another "getting to be an old lady" thing.  And I guess I'll admit...I'm kind of OK with it.