Every so often I like to journal small stuff, like the minutia of life. Here’s a sample:
* Mr. Miracle Grow—I’ve always figured you stick a plant in the ground and let nature take its course. Not so David, my husband. He’s out there watering every morning and fertilizing at least every other week. You know what? He was right: Our lawn and flowers look fantastic.
* Mono—Lots of words begin with “mono,” the prefix meaning “one.” There’s monopoly, monotone, monotonous, and mononucleosis. Michael, my 17-year-old son, has mononucleosis. The poor kid is really sick, tired, feverous, and miserable. And this is going to go on for a while, which is monotonous. But I’m trying to consider this a special family time together since it’s so hard to get a teenager to slow down, which means our chance to monopolize and capitalize on this opportunity. (By the way, that part about mono suppressing your appetite? It hasn’t happened at our house.)
* Monarch—While I was walking Rafferty, I noticed a big hole in the leaf of a milkweed plant. Sure enough, when I turned it upside down, I saw a Monarch butterfly (another “mono” word!) caterpillar hanging on. I carefully plucked off the leaf and brought it home. I put it in a big plastic container with a piece of damp paper towel at the bottom. Then I set it beside Michael’s computer. When he woke up the next morning, he found the new “pet.” It made him happy—and I know that’s one caterpillar that will make it to be a butterfly because we’ll care for it until it metamorphs. (Is that a word?)
* A New Name, A New Life—Someone asked me if our rescue dog’s name was always Rafferty. I don’t think so. I think that when a dog is given a foster home, he or she also gets a new name to go with a new life. I hope so. I like the name Rafferty, and I want to think he only has good associations when he hears it.
* Susan McBride—And I had lunch together on Saturday before she spoke to our Sisters in Crime group. I really enjoy her Debutante Dropout Mystery series. I also like her spunk. She’s coming back from a bout with breast cancer, and each time I see her, I have a new image of the word “survivor.” The title of her most recent book, Night of the Living Deb, is just brilliant. That's Susan's picture upper right.
* My, What a BIG Hummingbird—Each night the syrup disappeared in our feeder: Poof! So I thought I’d start bringing it in after dark. Last night I threw open the back door and came face to face with a raccoon. Did I write raccoon? Huh. This guy was SUPER-raccoon, bigger than poor Rafferty. I decided he could have the syrup. Gulp.
* Somewhere Out There—I went to send a sympathy card to Linda Johnston about her dog’s death. I realized I have NO idea where she lives. I mean, she’s as close as my computer keyboard and Internet connection. I have a lot of friends like that. It’s kind of weird that I can’t say, “Oh, she’s in Kalamazoo.” I do have her cell phone number. I think I do, at least. Which is more than I have with some of my Internet buddies. I can’t even call some of these folks on the phone. Worse yet, there are a few I’ve never met in person. And yet…they are my friends. I could have never predicted this a decade ago, but it’s true.
* Speaking of Cards—I keep buying them and losing them. ARRRGGGHHH. I did manage to get a lot written this weekend: A sympathy over a loss of a loved one, an “I’m thinking of you” letter to a friend with MS, a get well card to Elaine Viets, a graduation congratulations, a pregnancy congratulations, two birthdays, one belated birthday, and more “thank you” notes than I can count. You know, that’s a pretty correct percentage, come to think of it. There’s a balance of good and bad, but on the whole a LOT more to be thankful for.
Hey! I just remembered where the cards are! Yipppeeeee!