A cat, a house, a dog...and I am not Superman!

Just wanted to share the story of my day. The things life teaches us when we least expect it!

Got up today to take Ike (our 2 year old cat) into the vet to get her wellness check so we could give her drugs for the trip to our new home. Or just whenever we want for fun, but mostly for the trip to be sure there is no mewing. Max (our 7 year old Border Collie Mix) would bark at her if she did that and there would be total mayhem in the car. Mark decided he would put Ike in the new carrier to see how she would do, about 45 min. ahead of the time we needed to leave. She was fine, staying in a few minutes and calmly walking out after the experiment. That carrier is much smaller and better suited to our 4 pound wonder cat Guyton, so we got the bigger carrier out instead. That was about the time Ike went postal on us. Seriously, if the cat had thumbs and a gun, it might have been all over. Finally, after chasing her round and round, she ran and hid under our bed. We could not even coax her out with bacon (oh, yeah, that is another story), and she ran into the guest bedroom under the bed. Well, we have now lost our travel time, so I call the vet and actually said, "I have no idea how many more places this damn cat will squeeze herself into before we can get there!" They said no problem, laughing a bit like this happens a lot, and told me we should just come whenever we can grab her and get there.

While I was on the phone, Mark had chased Ike into the living room, through the dining room and around through the kitchen. I dove at her in the family room, and she scrambled BACK into the guest bedroom. I am now cussing at this #$#@*# cat. I pulled the bed away from the wall enough to squeeze myself in and I felt cat claws and heard madcap hissing...about that time the phone rang. I disentangle myself from the bed and the claws to answer it. "Hello, this is the Real Estate Listing Service. We have a request for a showing for you today at 10 AM" and I said, "Wait...you mean in 45 min? Really?" I freaked out. Rather like the cat. My voice was about as high as Minnie Mouse or Cindy Bear...and Yogi was not calming me down. I said, "Oh, my god, no, I am packing the entire house, and chasing a cat to take it to the vet. There is no way I can do this today!! Can you ask them if there is another time?" She was great and said yes, she would let me know. I bet I said said much more than that in my pure panicked way....I hung up with the listing service and called our agent. She talked me off my perfectionist ledge, and Mark made me sit down to talk...and we decided we could have the house ready for showing by 2PM. Still no cat back in the carrier. We had no idea at this point where she had hidden.

SO I called the service back, they changed the period of NO SHOWINGS from 10 - 2PM, and we went back to chasing said cat. No luck. More hissing and clawing. I said, "TO HELL WITH HER, I am not giving her our new address! She can stay with the house." Called the vet, they laughed and said, "Can you come at 4:30?" Mark said, "YES!! She wants to be fed then...we will trick her and it will be perfect!" More laughter. NOT from me. It is now 10:30. We have been chasing that #^@$&#* CAT since 9AM. Now I have so much nervous energy, I start rearranging boxes (the kitchen and bathrooms were scrubbed down yesterday, so they are clean), get out the sweeper, WHICH I think just might just suck up the reluctant cat, but that didn't happen either. More wishful thinking on my part I suppose, as I am still mad at that silly cat. Mark took the Wal-Mart list to get the items needed and by noon, the house was ready for showing.

At 11:30, the listing service let me know the agent will bring the clients to see our house at 10AM tomorrow morning, relieving the pressure for the day. Of course I am still worried, because I have had the house perfectly staged for nobody for 6 weeks, with about 2 showings. I sure hope the folks coming to see the house are not teatotalers and enjoy the creative decorating with liquor boxes, because they do look quite lovely in the corners. They might enjoy some of the labels. Like the one that says, "Yes, this really IS a wine box" or the one that says, "No Whiskey here, only pots and pans. Keep looking!". I was entertaining myself by creating labels.

Ike came out at lunch time, on cue, and decided we were just fine again. Probably because we control the food. She just padded right out like nothing had just transpired. WOW. So later that afternoon, not to be outdone by her again, about 20 minutes before we needed to leave for the vet...again...she was sleeping beside me on the couch. I scooped her up and dumped her into the carrier. Not a peep during my route to the carrier and she didn't fight me. No claws, no sound, no problem. She mewed a bit after my dumping her in (about 5 min.) and then was quiet. Max, however, decided that I must not understand the cat was TRAPPED in a BOX, and began his "Momma, Timmy is in the well!" routine. First he 'talks' to me. Then he barks at me. Then he runs over to the carrier and barks. Back to me. More barking. Now grabbing at my hands and being insistent. Back to the carrier, with more barking. To which I kept saying, "Max the kitty is fine! Go lie down."

Poor Max was quite perplexed and not at all happy with the situation. I guess he decided if I was that stupid, he better work on Mark. And then he had to do all that over again. Damn that smart dog! If he were just a bit more intelligent he would figure out that a cat in the box is worth two in the bush...or something like that. Mark repeated what I kept saying, and he just looked so confused and not at all ready to give in...not Mark, the dog. Well, Mark too, but that was something else I was trying to tell him about the configuration of the new laundry room in Greenville...

So we got Max settled in with a dog cookie tucked into a toy to distract him, we left with a quiet kitty cat, and her check-up was perfect. Only she never mewed. So why the heck did I do all that? TO STOP THE MEWING IN THE CAR...which apparently, she no longer does. $53 later, we find out our cat likes to ride in the car, the dog WILL bark at the cat in the carrier, and liquor boxes CAN add to the drama of staging. Huh.

And that, as they say, is the rest of the story.

Except for bacon. I will save that for another day.

The Journey, part two

The past week I started thinking about the journey I set out on with my husband four years ago. I gave up a job I loved, in the place I felt most at home in the world to go back to school and earn a Ph. D. I always thought I would love doing university teaching, but I just couldn't imagine giving up being around children and teaching music in the band room. I have found the job that actually encourages me to do both and write on top of it all. I couldn't feel more fortunate!

The fact that the first journey is complete should have already set in. Sometimes it does - when someone calls me "Dr."....when I look at my diploma...when things are just quiet and there are no deadlines to be met! And the new journey has begun, as we pack up the house and deal with the logistics of relocation for the new college job. It is a strange transition that has me so moody I have begun to feel a bit bipolar!

I figure, if it is a bit painful to make a break from where you are - that is probably one of the greater blessings of having established important bonds with special people! I will always love this place, these people, these incredibly special moments of my life. It is where I found myself, where I have come closer to becoming who I was meant to be, and because of that, the individuals who encouraged me to grow and stretch will remain treasured mentors, colleagues, and friends. It isn't that this is a more important place than others in my life, but it may be the place where I was able to change the most since childhood. So leaving is both wonderful and painful and a bit scary. I know I lived my life to the fullest here and I don't regret any minute of it! I never wanted to be anywhere else in these four years, and I can almost count the number of times I was sad...so it was a very happy time.

Looking forward, I know there are more changes ahead and yet, I have little sense of what they might feel like. Intellectually I know I am ready. My heart hasn't caught up with my head quite yet. I am totally thrilled to have the opportunity I have! I have a job that actually pays me to do exactly what I wanted to do, in the place I wanted to do it in, close to our children, on the east coast, and to put the icing on the cake, with a wonderful group of people I feel a bond with already! I know in this economy, that has not happened for many of my colleagues who graduated this spring. I worked hard to get in the position, but I also realize that the stars had to align for this to happen. To say I am thankful is an understatement.

The last week I spent conducting a junior band at THE MOST WONDERFUL summer music camp with the most amazing group of people. One of the other conductors called it "Disneyland for band nerds" and that is the perfect description! I was inspired by other directors, impressed with the number of directors working as rehearsal assistants, thrilled by the musicianship class material that aligned with my goals for the week, and humbled by the sheer musical talent flowing around me. And the best part? I was home. Heart, body, and soul - at home. What a beautiful way to end the time I have spent in Greensboro!

I can hardly wait to finish the move and settle into the new job and new community! No matter what bumps we have along the way, we are happy and together and doing what we want to dow with our lives. How great is that? But right now, I should get back to my to do list for moving!

Rest in Peace

This week, a former student wrote to share that a former classmate had taken his own life. She only knew that this young man had been in band with me, and wanted to be sure I knew. Her reaching out was so very thoughtful and caring, and I was touched that she would know that I would care to know this. She didn't know the rest of the story.

Jason had been my son's best friend from nursery school until about middle school, where their interests went different directions. Though they remained friends, they were not as close as they had been as little guys, giggling together over something silly, digging in the woods for 'lost treasure' as they told me...eating pancakes at the breakfast table after an overnight stay. They played trombone together in the band, and weathered many storms of pre-adolescence. Jason was very sweet, cooperative and easy-going. The two together seemed to laugh a lot, and both seemed to drag their feet when it came to growing up too fast. Jason's family taught Ty how to ride three-wheelers, and their family activities were quite physical and outdoors...very different from our family, and I thought good for my son as well. I enjoyed short chats with his parents and older brother, waiting for the boys to clean up their messes before taking one or another home. How did that time seem to last forever, but now represents only a heartbeat so long ago?

Both boys graduated from high school and went their separate ways, to different universities, and different lives. Jason became a Sergeant in the National Guard after graduation, and got home in December from a tour in Afghanistan. I am not sure what the story is after all that, but I would guess, from the limited knowledge I have, that he may have suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. The Jason I knew was bright, sensitive, loving, caring, and very loyal. I believe he was that kind of young man as well, and was probably a very strong leader serving his country. To end his own life - we can only begin to imagine the pain he was in and why he felt this was the only way out. I think of him several times a day - lamenting the loss of an incredible young man, knowing a light went out in the world, and worrying about his family. I have no words for his family that can ease a loss of this magnitude. I can't even begin to explain the pain I feel myself, which pales in comparison to theirs.

And there is the pain my children feel as well - much deeper, much fresher, more acute. My son may feel he lost a big part of his childhood and though the two men hadn't communicated much over the past eight years, I know he wants to reach out to the family that provided a second home for him for so many years. My daughter reached out to her brother, to be sure he was supported as well. We are all too far away to be with the family, and the distance feels obscene right now. Almost as if through the act of moving, we have forsaken the ties that were so important for so long. There is some guilt lying underneath all of that I suppose. Perhaps the feeling that I have disengaged my children from their community roots without their permission.

I have no words of wisdom. The cold, hard truth of life sometimes just is what it is. Everything about this is horrible. And for my children, this is only the beginning of learning to deal with loss. And there is no softening of these blows. Wrapping my arms around them can no longer protect them. It merely lets them know I am still here.

So, I dug up the old home movies of the boys to copy for my son, the memories that were made over a very short lifetime. We wrote notes to his family, and sent money off to Wounded Warriors. I suppose that is the best we can do right now. Except perhaps - Rest in peace, Jason. You will be missed greatly by many.