Promises and Rewards…by Lisa Harmon August 11, 2008

Kenai checking things out, 31 wks old

Today is Kenai’s last day to be 7 months old–tomorrow he will be 8 months old. It’s astonishing how different he looks now compared to his 9 wk old toddly self he was when I brought him home. He has grown tremendously fast, as Dane pups do. From 30 pounds to 104 pounds in 22 weeks.

The only way I could gain that kind of weight is if I go off my thyroid meds! Then I could give you a competition, my boy! Diminutive little brother BB is still under 80 pounds, poor guy. But that keeps him from having more orthopedic problems than he already does, so that’s okay. He’ll be our perennial puppy, both in body and spirit.

There’s not a lot really to report on the Kenai front since Friday, besides a trip (finally) to the puppy store for chew toys. I’m trying to keep all quiet on the Midwestern Front, resting up as much as he’ll let me. Puppy energy doesn’t go away just because I need to rest. It gets stored up, and sometimes comes out sideways if not burned off regularly. So being sedentary isn’t an option. Still, I’ll get as many naps as I can out of him.

The date has been chosen! My brother will supposedly be gone by the end of September. Come October 1st, there’ll be a champagne party hosted by yours truly. I’m gonna drink at least 2 glasses, and hibernate for a month. Might have to hibernate from a hangover if I drink more than 3 glasses! Seven more weeks, Lord give me strength.

That will make a grand total of 25 weeks that my life has been pitched into survival mode, more than 6 months of just barely containing the crises. It’s felt like that game at fairs and Chuck-e-Cheese where you have a hammer and have to hit the targets that pop up out of a hole. Stamp out this emergency, deal with that situation, look out to the left, scrap those plans…

When playing such a game, it’s not really possible to do anything else. My list of what’s not getting done is pitifully long. Not a pleasant way to spend half a year. I could have done without it, most certainly. I won’t miss the turmoil one iota.

I will enjoy the small things I’ve missed, like being able to linger on the internet to answer emails and return later to read group postings. Or making something for supper I actually want, not something picked because it’s inexpensive even in the massive quantities my brother eats.

Oh, and not having to pop up the moment my niece unexpectedly appears and sets BB off will be sumptuous. No more having to hide the keys to my truck, the mower, and other expensive equipment so they don’t get damaged. Buying one loaf of bread at a time… wow.

Any hassles will be of our own making, Mom and I, not thrust on us by someone else’s lack of consideration. Those hassles will be deserved. What an eccentric sense of freedom it is, being happy to just make your own problems. Borrowed trouble is bad enough if you’re foolish enough to take it on, but imposed trouble…Oh to be released from it! And pray to God that Mom’s learned her lesson? Three times of Mike moving in is enough to make the Dali Lama hurl off a mountain.

I just have to endure 7 more weeks (it’d better not be more, Mom) of this weekly exhaust myself and recover cycle. If I can hold onto my legs, keep the migraines controlled, and manage the stress, October will be paradise. Then I can return to my healthier diet, focus on Kenai’s training, and recharge my depleted energy reserves. Stress is not good for fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue, not good at all.

Maybe even start back with my yoga practices? Right now the only asanas I can manage are passive poses, for relaxing and stretching. But the best thing will be to see about registering for a spring semester college class again. No way could I have managed the study time with all this foolishness going on. I want to go back to school next spring!

Kenai will go with me, and that is such a glorious thought–the hard work paying off! I doubt I’ll let him join a fraternity, though. I’d love for him to retrieve, but not out of my underwear drawer! He’ll be over a year old, in full adolescence, so no panty raids or beer. Nope, he’s going to be a scholar, despite having the size and speed to make a terrific half-back for a football team.

Which class to take is still in the air, though I’m waffling between finishing the math or political science classes I had to drop last spring. I’ll start my boy off with one class, so getting a consistent full hour of silent and still down stays is on his training menu. If I can get an hour and a half, then I can take class on the Tuesday/Thursday schedule, and only go twice a week instead of 3 days a week.

I believe I will add a stop at school Monday to the errand list, to see what I need to do to be ready for spring semester. If I do pick the math or poly sci class, I won’t need to buy books. Yep, it’s one of those two, and I’m leaning towards math. Uh-oh, I’m getting excited–Kenai, do a goober run for me! A great big silly one, please, with lots of funny wiggles. He doesn’t feel like it, so hold on while I goose the baby bottoms…

♣

Our trip to the puppy store Saturday was fruitful, finding plenty of buy 2 get 1 deals on bones, pressed rawhide, giant bully sticks, and other boy toys. The bully sticks lost 12” by Saturday night, and the bones were getting wrecked too, so nasty me took them up. Kenai stood there staring at the bookcase pining for them! You know he’s figuring out how to get them down…

Kenai would chew till he threw up (or worse), so I get the thankless job of restricting their intake of bits and pieces. BB’s already done that plug-up-my-bowels thing, and I’m not having repeats. Bent bottom Beebs already has an impressive collection of scar tissue. He doesn’t need more, and Kenai doesn’t need any.

Rain came again Saturday, and I was glad about it—didn’t feel guilty for not getting Kenai’s afternoon run in. He went out to potty without a problem, but didn’t loiter any. Besides, last month was really hot and dry. Even below normal rain for July, we’re still 20+ inches ahead on precipitation for the year, which means we should finally have some decent fall color from the trees. Another reason to look forward to October!

Flaming red maples, glowing yellow ash trees, fiery oranges, rose hips and holly… how very beautiful fall is around here in SW Missouri, with all the native hardwood forests. Those forests have taken a severe beating the past 5 years, with drought, pests, wildfires, record ice storms, and floods.

A wetter, cooler summer seemed to nurse them back from the brink, though a few trees did die. I’ve got a 90 foot oak in my front yard that’s dead as can be, and no money to pay an arborist to take it down. The water tables were down more than 17” last summer, too, and are back up now. Good thing, since people were having to drill wells for water, looking for deeper tables.

If I seem to be waxing lyrical about autumn, bear with me. It’s always been my most cherished time of year, surpassing even spring. This break in the summer heat has given me a taste of autumn! As much as I love the thousands of daffodils and crocus I’ve planted, the cooler temps of fall refresh me.

After a long winter, cool springs aren’t refreshing. The short days, muddy grey light, and storminess just doesn’t feel like relief from the doldrums. But after a long bout of withering heat, 50 F degrees is. The snakes are gone, the sky isn’t hazy, humidity drops enough to breathe, and yard work changes from a necessary chore into a delight for my senses. And who doesn’t like wearing big soft sweaters?

Best of all is the color…Color is a powerful thing, and affects me intensely. Having once been a ceramic artist before the Lyme disease took my hands away, I could not live without rich hues and bold swaths of color. My house is full of saturated pigments, from warm yellows, terra cotta washes, deep blue bedrooms, and olive green baths.

The only pastel walls are in Mom’s room, as mint green is her favorite color. And despite the Lyme disease stealing from me the finer brushes needed for ceramics, I’ve painted large landscapes and garden murals where I could without going overboard.

To me, a bright and blazing fall has more renewal in it than spring ever could. Spring’s flowers are a promise—life is coming back, blooming despite the short overcast days. It’s a sort of “hold on, better is coming”. Autumn is an extravagant display, an over the top rejoicing that the hardships of the spring storms and summer heat is done with.

Maybe that’s why I like it so much: it’s a reward for enduring. I’ve done a fair amount of enduring in my life, and look forward to the times when adversity is over for awhile. I guess then, that it is entirely appropriate that this October is when I get my life back. Or at least can start rebuilding it again. 

adversity is a catalyst for wisdom, unless you have chosen to let it make you bitter…