To Max

I'll See You Later, Max....

There comes a time for every pet and his owner when it's time to say goodbye.  I am at that threshold right now, this minute, on this day.  It is so hard knowing that my dear Max is a living, breathing being right now, but that tomorrow will dawn without him. What is worse, my husband and I are in the position of having to make the decision to say goodbye to our beloved pet. This, we will have to do this evening when Rich comes home from work. Max has been at the vet hospital since last night, as his doctor wanted to evaluate him one more time, just to see if there was anything they could do. Unfortunately, there isn't.

  The thing is, I've been saying goodbye to him for the past few months, little by little and day by day, knowing that his battle with two forms of cancer could not be won. However, we gave him every chance possible within our means to last a while longer; but now I am asking myself did we really do the right thing?  It is a question that haunts me and I know is going to haunt me for a long time to come.  But for now, it feels good in my heart to know that we did all that we could possibly do.

I like to think that we gave Max a good life, and I guess we did.  Many times his veterinarian told us that at nearly 16 years of age, he had far outlived his breed, and he certainly and courageously fought his battle with cancer and actually seemed to beat at least one of them.  However, there is just one thing: that there is no pill, no treatment, no magic button that could be pushed that would turn back the hands of time.  That is the battle that our dear Max has lost, and all we can really do at this point is to release him from his pain and suffering as our final act of love.  With his back end clearly gone and his being unable to stand up or walk, his eyes told the story far more clearly than I could've ever imagined.  It tore my heart to see the confusion and fear in his eyes at not being able to get up.

So, on our last day together which was yesterday, I had a long talk with Max and I told him a few things I wanted him to know.  I told him the story of how he came to live with us, and I swear every now and then he would glance at me and his eyes would say something like "Really?" or 'Wow! That was a good thing, Mom!". Then, my talk grew little more serious and I went on to tell him that I understood how he felt about being crippled.  He did not know that for three years before he came to us I was not able to walk at all, spent all my time in my wheelchair.  It was one of the unhappiest times of my whole life, and it did not make me feel good at all.  I felt like a burden to my family and friends even though everyone assured me I was not. I swear, his eyes became a little more animated and it looked as if he understood what I was trying to say.

I explained to him about my AVN, and how my body had to be rebuilt.  Unfortunately, this was not possible for doggies, I told him, especially doggies at his age.  He seemed to grow little sad at that, but he let me go on. I went on to tell him that even though he could no longer walk I still love him just as much as ever and if there was anything I could possibly do to restore his legs I would do it.  There was just one thing I could do nothing about, and that was his advanced age.

One thing Max taught me is to treasure and enjoy every single day, because none of us really knows just how much time we are going to get on this earth.  I decided to try to live more like my Max, which means unconditional love and total loyalty to those that I love, no matter what.  It also means to let others know when I'm feeling happy, and to let them know how much they mean to me -- as if they were the only people in the whole world.  And, it means to find peace and contentment exactly where I'm at.  and to be thankful and grateful for everything that I have in my life, no matter how old, worn-out, out of date, my stuff is.  He taught me simply to be happy just to "be".

I will never forget my Max, and I will never forget the joy and delight that he brought into our lives.  But I swear, the hardest thing in all my life that I have had to do yet to say goodbye to this gentle, kind, and loving creature that I had the honor of being an "adopted parent" to for so long. In fact, I am not going to say goodbye to him -- instead, I'm going to tell him I will see him later in heaven. If there truly is a heaven, my Max will be there, along with the long line of pets that I have loved and enjoyed through my life.

Because if they are not there, then it can't possibly be heaven.


(Max crossed over the rainbow bridge at 9:15 pm, May 22, 2012, being held peacefully in our arms.)

Things I Wish I Didn't Have

Writers Group  Assignment,  March 2, 2012

Things I wish I didn’t have…

This is really hard for me! There is not much about my life that I do not like, and I am actually busier counting my blessings than I am griping about things over which I have no control.

OK..let me really try hard to think on this! 

If I had to say something I guess I would start with my nose. I wish I did not have the Italian nose I was graced with! Yes, I wish I had the sleek, aquiline nose of a model – picture perfect and awe inspiring! Instead, I’ll be happy to keep the one I have because, quite frankly, it works! I can tell if a food is on the turn, if the cake is burning in the oven, or if a chemical has spilled over in the garage or basement. It helps keep us all safe at my house, because, the nose knows!

I wish I didn’t have the large, clod hopper feet God graced me with. They are huge, size eight and a half! No Cinderella glass slipper for me, my foot is anything but dainty – yet I’ll be happy to keep them because they get me to where I want to go. They help me to stand up and walk, and to stand my ground, and to stand up for what I believe in.  How good is that?!

I wish I didn’t have such a large butt! Again, it’s partly my Italian heritage and my appreciation of good food that gives my derriere its shape. Unable to squeeze into a size 6 any longer, I guess I will keep my butt, anyway, because it gives me a solid place to land if I should slip and fall down. Good cushioning there! No worries about breaking a hip for me – it’s like falling on a mattress! And, that is not a bad thing when you are carrying a number of artificial joints in your body, as I know only too well.

I wish I didn’t have such a good appetite! If I didn’t, I’d be fussier about my food and probably be a good 20 pounds thinner without even trying. Then again, I did live without being able to eat solid foods for nearly 6 years and I know what a real heart breaking nightmare that was. I wouldn’t want to go back there again for anything! Give me a good turkey dinner with all the delectable trimmings, anytime!

I wish I didn’t have the feelings of insecurity and inferiority that I have, and wish I had the confidence of a lion! Then again, because I don’t feel over confident, I make sure to take care of my friends and loved ones feelings by being kind to them and treating them with respect.  I do not want go through my life hurting people because that is not what love does, hurt people. And, I love people too much to hurt them!

I wish I didn’t have the singing voice of a scratched disc! Then again, I can make people laugh or cry with my music and can communicate to others just how I am feeling by the quality and tone of my piano playing. Who needs a voice to communicate?!

Yes, there is not much that I really do not want or wish I didn’t have. Through a life time of practice and determination, I learned to find goodness in every fault in my life, and a reason for hope with every disappointment I’ve ever suffered. To be honest, I have adjusted pretty well to being me and don’t mind saying that it’s taken me a life time to for me to get to really know myself, and to accept myself for who I am. Really, I’m not so bad, after all! 

I guess I’ll keep me just the way I am.

Writers Class Assignment: Phobias

On Phobias

As a kid growing up I was never much concerned with phobias. On the tomboyish side, I would ride my bike recklessly down New Windsor School Hill, a feat only attempted by the very brave, or the very stupid. Also, considering myself a junior scientist,  I collected mice, snakes, bugs and anything that breathed and was smaller than me, consigning them to jars and aquariums in our basement.... until my parents caught up with me, that is! It wasn't a pretty sight.

Then, I entered the beginning of puberty and my mind started to really frighten me! Leaving the bugs, mice, etc. far behind, I was then more concerned with two things: my hair, and boys. One was directly proportionate to the other: good hair days meant the possibility of popularity with the cutest boys in school. Bad hair days meant “go sit in the back of the class and hide behind the tallest book in my arsenal.”  Then, God help me, my intellect kicked in!

I think it happened one Thursday afternoon in church school. Sr. Mary Agatha, who we all privately dubbed as “Attila the Nun”,  frowned at all of us public school kids as we squirmed in our desk-and-chair combo things, wishing it was already 4:30 pm. Looking back on it all now, I am sure she dreaded spending that hour each week with us as much as we did spending it with her! Anyway, I digress…

One day she went on and on about the fires of Hell, and how we would be sent to this horrid place if we died with even one sin our souls! I never before thought about death because as a very young teen, all I could think of was what I would do if another pimple cropped up on my face Then, wham! Talk of death….and worse than that, of the after life! Who knew??! I thought once you kicked off, that was it, pretty much. I thought that perhaps I might float on the shoulders of an angel all the way up to heaven and not once have to be afraid of the altitude. (One phobia conquered, at least!)

Then, Sr. Mary Agatha’s description of the eternal tortures of fire and brimstone filled my mind with images of gore and intense pain everlasting. It was all too much! That is when the idea hit me that I was stuck with one huge, unrelenting phobia: I was, for all intents and purposes, afraid to live! I was afraid to live, because living meant dying some day. And, unless I died immediately after going to confession on a cloudy, dismal Saturday afternoon with a hundred Hail Mary’s still on my lips, I was doomed to spend eternity in a pit of the hottest and worst fire imaginable! That was a pretty big weight for at 13 year old to carry around with her. I developed an intense anger toward my parents for being Catholics. Why couldn't they have chosen a more user-friendly religion? Again, I digress....

So, I developed a phobia about living and dying. I think I also developed a phobia about nuns and organized religion as well. No, I am sure I did! I know that to this day I break out in hives at the merest hint of the scent of starched linen.

 Not that any of this was any big thing, really.  I mean, life still went on all around me and I participated in it full-force. But every now and then, that wrinkled brow that scrunched beneath a highly starched snow white and midnight black veil pops into my mind and Sr’s words haunt me: “You’ll go to Hell, my dear children!” (I swear, to this day I can hear her cackle, "...and your little dog, too!")   So much for religious education. 

I wonder where she wound up? Oh, never mind..that is another topic for another day! 

The True Power of Now

Several years ago I read a book that held life-changing results for me. The title was "The Power of Now", by author Erkhart Tolle. Over the years, I've read it no less than 10 times. Perhaps I listened to it is closer to the truth, for I bought both the hard-cover and cassette tape versions. At any rate, the book spoke volumes to me and although it was not what I would call 'an easy read', Mr. Tolle's ideas, concepts, and beliefs somehow found their way into the back-most recesses of my mind. And, over the years, they have often whispered to my conscious mind and therefore have given me much comfort.

I am finding that particularly true right now. To me, nothing is as important, pure, or beautiful as this moment right now in time. Why? Because at this moment in time, I am not aware that my cancer has come back to torment me, the cancer that tried to steal my life three years ago, and which I believed to have beaten. Waiting to hear the results of my biopsy from last week, at this moment in time I only have to think about how I am feeling right now, and what I am tending to right now. Right now, I am writing this essay and I am enjoying the feel of the keyboard just beneath my finger tips, and the look of the computer monitor as my words seem to magically appear on it, letter by letter. The dryer's sounds in the background are cozily familiar as my clothes tumble and scamper amongst themselves in a race to nowhere. My dog lies at my feet, snoozing and seeming to be enjoying each moment of peaceful oblivion.  As I give myself over to the true 'power of now', at this moment in time I have no problems, no worries, and no pain. How wonderful is that?! Pretty wonderful, if you ask me.

This happens to be December 9, 2011. It is the holiday season and as the whole world counts down the days to Christmas, the Reason for the season, I am caught up in the festivities as never before. For a very deeply personal reason, this year's Christmas is very special to me. Each sight, sound, and smell is thrilling to me. I could not wait to put up my Christmas tree, and so I did, on December 2nd., the day after my biopsy. That night when my husband came home from work, he walked into my version of a winter wonderland and I could see a smile beginning to form on his tired-looking and worry-lined face. That made me glad! Very glad.

For the past 2 years, I didn't even put up a tree -- we relied on a little pottery-type replica with plastic lights sticking out all over it, something my husband's mother created long ago in a moment of creativity. It was green, shaped like a Christmas tree and had lights. Good enough, I thought. No muss, no fuss and just one main light bulb to worry about -- how much better could it get? I couldn't have been more wrong.

This year, our house is modestly dressed for the holiday, but at least it shows that I did something to make it look festive. After all, our kids flew the coop long ago, and we live so far away from them all -- so for too many years, I had the attitude "Why bother?" Our house did not look too Christmasy, but only as if someone had a second thought or two and stuck up a wreath here, or a glass tree there. Now, our house looks ready to welcome both friend and weary traveler alike; and in our minds and hearts, our family is here (thanks to the wonderment of texting and the ability to send pictures over a device instantly!), be it in spirit only.

I was never one to enjoy Christmas shopping. This year, I am a tad ahead of the game. I buy what strikes my fancy whenever I am in a store, making sure all of my wonderful friends will have something from me this year. I've already sent my gifts up to my kids and grand kids -- which is extremely early for me!  The true joy I am experiencing this year takes me back to a time long ago in my life when the secrecy of Christmas gifts seemed like a delicious treat! Not a chore at all, gift gathering for those I love is a thrill this year, something I had long forgotten.

So, the morning progresses. I am thinking toward the trip to the mansion with my friends this afternoon, the one over in Germantown that is decorated to the hilt for Christmas, and open for tours. I've never seen it before, but this year is special, and so I will make the trek with them. Then, there is this evening, when I go with my performing choral group to the Women's Home on Leverington Avenue. We will sing for them and entertain them, just as we've done all year long for so many nursing homes, rehab centers and hospitals. We even sang at the Alzheimer's Walk event this past year, finding ourselves the only performing group allowed into the Citizen's Bank Ball park in south Philly. What a glorious day that was!  But, this is to be our last performance for this year and how fitting it should be for women who have somehow lost their way, or who are too ill to live on their own. It will be a very special performance, indeed, for us and I know we will put our heart and souls into it. I love our singing group! They have become members of my extended family and I treasure each moment with them. I have so much to be thankful for this year!

As the sun slowly climbs a bit higher in the sky with each passing moment, I know that at some point it will seem to have come to a dead stop for me. That moment in time -- that "now" that is not here yet, but is on its way -- will find me holding the phone up to my ear and carefully listening to what my doctor has to say to me. I will either get a reprieve,  via negative test results, or the test will be positive once again and it will be back to the all-too familiar routine of battling a serious illness. The next few moments will be very, very hard for me. I will, of course, make two calls to two special people who know about this situation and who are waiting so anxiously for the results. One is to my wonderful daughter, Janette, who has texted me no less than 10 times in two days to see if I've heard yet, and the other to my loving husband, the man who stole my heart so many years ago. He and I are a team, a true "duo" -- connected at the very soul. It is he that I am worried for, and I pray that for his sake, my test results will be negative. Oh, how very much I would love to call him and share that with him!  The same goes for my daughter, of course, and she will become my 'telephone tree' and let the others know the good news.

But, that "now" is not here just yet. I don't know what it will be like because I don't know yet what my doctor will say. However, for Now, the only Now that any of us has, I am doing just fine. I do not have cancer, I do not suffer from the pain of Osteonecrosis, which I've battled for the past 16 years and formed an entire Organization for -- I am simply a person who is enjoying the sunny yet cold morning and cherishing each moment of it.

If I could give just one gift to everyone I know and love, it would be just this: Inner Peace that comes from true understanding of the power of "now".  It would be a Peace that comes from deeply within, and which is a grace given from God Himself. It would be a Peace that would tide us all over from any circumstance this life has to throw at us, and a deep inner knowing that we are truly loved by a Power greater than any of us.

Merry Christmas to all this year and may we all enjoy the coming year, and many years to come. I intend to be here, God willing, but even if I"m not at least I am feeling that inner peace for now. The "Power of Now" is mighty, and to be treasured, as well as shared. God bless, everyone!

"Time" - My latest Writers' Group project!

“Time”

Do you have the time? Is this the time? How many times? When will it be time for_____? Time marches on so slowly…..time flies right by!  Time for a change. What time is it? “It’s Howdy Doody Time!”

Time: What a wonderful word and elusive, abstract concept!

Great philosophers have asked if there really is such a thing as time, or is it just a man-made commodity, created to give us something by which to measure things such as our days, our nights, our very lives?

No matter, whatever it is, to us time is very real. Just look at the great variety of expressions in which we use the word “time”, for example! But, if we had to define time at all, what would we say as individuals? By what do we measure, or mark time?

For me, it is the growth of children! I’ve often said that if a person wants a real yardstick of the passage of time, look at a friend’s baby or child. Newborn, a baby nestles in his parents’ arms, safe and secure from the bumps and bangs of the world. Within a year, the baby sits up, starts trying to feed himself, and smiles at his family members with happy abandon. By age two, he has usually taken his first steps, if fortunate enough to be of good health, has a vocabulary of at least a few words, and is able to toss his baby bottle across the room with glee. Two years later, he is having full-blown conversations with others, telling with great relish stories about his puppy dog, or his new baby sister or brother. Blink your eyes—don’t see your friend for a few more years – and the child has grown into a pre-teen-ager!  The next time you may see your friend and his family, the child may have graduated from high school My, how the time has flown!

But, time can also turn into molasses and barely inch its way across the fabric of our lives! I remember one job I had, as the Receptionist at an airport, where quitting time was 5 p.m. Since I was the principal phone contact, it was imperative that I leave not one minute sooner than 5 p.m. You never knew who might be calling with a question about a flight, or lost baggage, and so on. I can recall that I hated, above all other times in my life, the specific time of 4:55 p.m.  The ensuing five minutes were the absolutely longest minutes of my life! I would sit and virtually stare at the clock, trying to will the second hand to move faster with my mind’s help – all to no avail. Tick by tick, the slender hand would move toward it’s goal of the number 12,  only to move past it again, make another circuitous route and do so until at last, and with agonizing slowness, the little hand would finally land on ‘5’. Oh, my God, but those were the slowest minutes and seconds of my life!

Yet, here it is so many years later and all I did was blink my eyes!

Cleaning off my desk yesterday, I came across last year’s Christmas card and letter from our dear friends, Brian and Christine, from our home town back in NY.  As always, there was a lovely and current picture of their four children. At first, 11 years ago, there were just the twins, darling little 2 year old orphan girls from China. Then, there was Tommy a year later – a real surprise natural child. Two years later, there was Danny, another Chinese orphan. Looking back at me from the photograph was a group of four young people that just took my breath away! The girls are now teen-agers and the boys all baseball and soccer players, happily sporting their uniforms. The passage of Time once again rapped me on the head: “Look!”, Time goaded me. “While you were busy doing your things, look at what I did!” Time said with a grin. Until I looked at that photo, I had forgotten how much time had passed!

It’s time I wrapped up this essay. Thank you for your time in listening to it, and I promise that the next time, my essay will be shorter! 

*the word “time” was used 31 times in this piece!*

THTSL Manual: The Kook Next Door

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Just a matter of time is all it took, and I am sure that I have been officially dubbed "The Kook Next Door." I guess I can live with that; at least, it's not 'The Neighborhood Kook', which honor goes to the old man way up the street, the one who collects the chestnuts from the tree bordering the field across the street. Not a bad hobby at all, except, he manages somehow to go into the horse's enclosure to get his prize chestnuts. Strange things happen when you live in the same neighborhood as a farm school, so just accept what I'm saying for now and I will explain further a little later on. Anyway, I digress....


I decided to concentrate a little bit on our front yard. With a new landscaper to do the more exhausting chores, this frees me up to do those little side things, like killing annoying weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk. I'm telling you, those weeds are the bane of existence! Everything else looks almost picture-perfect: every plant is growing, right where its supposed to grow, and the solar garden lights all really light up at night (even the one I accidentally stepped on and is lying on its side with its broken stem as useless as a cat's hairball), and so on. Everything's great EXCEPT for those stubborn, healthy, thriving and totally unwanted weeds in between the slabs of concrete that make up our front walk. I know what you're thinking...why not just buy some weed killer and be done with them? No way, Jose. Not again, at least. The last time I did that I forgot to read the damn label on the bottle and squirted weeds willy-nilly without the benefit of rubber gloves protecting my hands. That night, I made fresh meatballs, carefully rolling the meat in my hands to make the golf-ball sized entree -- and wound up poisoning myself for an entire night and half the next day. Thank GOD no one else was home that night to eat the meatballs, but still, it was bad enough.

Anyway....NO poison. I just can't take that chance with Max living here, and with neighborhood kids and other dogs wandering the neighborhood, so forth and so on. So, I had an inspiration! Somewhere along the way, I remember reading about someone using boiling water to kill weeds. They said it was simple, clean and if you weren't clumsy, a very safe way to kill the little buggers. I went inside to put the kettle on, as well as two huge pots of water, and in jig time, I had all 3 boiling away, with me cackling with glee like the witches from MacBeth (at least, I think it was MacBeth...my memory isn't what it used to be)!

I hurried outside and began to gently pour boiling water from my tea kettle on the green, unsuspecting plants. I began to giggle a bit, very pleased with myself for this amazing brainstorm, and started talking out loud to myself, something along the lines of ,"I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!"

 Then, I heard a gentle cough...and looked up to see my new neighbor staring at me, looking a bit confused and more than a bit worried.

"Good morning!" I chirped, still giddy with glee over my great idea.

"Uh....Hi..." he responded. "If I may ask, what are you doing?" He didn't look as curious as he did really worried.

"I'm killing...." but before I could say "weeds", a sight more horrible than a dozen eggs dropped on the floor met my eyes. To my horror, four or five wiggly, frantic and probably very p**** off earth worms were trying their best to flee the boiling flood from hell -- and for all intents and purposes, looked like they were coming straight AT me! A little-known fact in these parts is that I hate -- and I mean totally loathe -- worms of ANY type, and most especially earth worms! Just the sight of one on the pavement is enough to send me walking way out of my way around it, afraid it is going to somehow touch me (God forbid!).

And, with that I screamed out, "WORMS!"

"Uh...yeah...right. Well you have a good day, ok?" he finished lamely, scooting really fast into his car.

Oh, well. Some days it just doesn't pay to try and explain what you are doing. I must have looked a fright with that hot kettle dangling from my hand, and trying to catch up with his car for a little ways as he backed out of his driveway. I'm not sure, but I think that only made things worse!

Well, I think that did it. With one successful try, I've moved out of the realm of 'eccentric lady next door'  to 'the kook who kills worms'. Yeah...maybe so. But at least I own the Queen of Green, who lives just out back, and I'm sure she would have nodded her approval , had she seen me doing my thing.

Yep, it is going to be some summer!

THTSL Manual: The Fountain - I wish

The giant hosta sits quietly on her throne, spreading her arms wide as if to hug the entire backyard. Her throne is a garden bed --  more accurately, a 4 foot wide space of ground surrounded by planks, each about 12 feet long by 6 inches high. The enormous plant fills nearly the entire bed as she grandly claims the title of The Pride of Henry Ave.

It’s been somewhat of a hassle for me to be the guardian of this unusual Queen of Green. For the past few years, I’ve protected her from various assailants, such as the notorious Chuckie the groundhog, Wicky the rat, and Max, my beloved aging shepherd-lab mix (his aim is to improve his aim, preferably no where near the hosta). However, I’ve taken to this task like a duck takes to water, or dandruff takes to a black sweater, or something like that. I’m not fussy. This year, I’ve done something truly radical with my yard and gardens, something I vowed I would never do. I’ve hired someone to help me, God help me, and so far, he’s done a swell job. My biggest fear is that I will grow fat and sassy (oh, ok…fat is a probable, but sassy is a given) from lack of working outdoors – but the bold truth is that I am not a young as I was 10 years ago (who is, really?) and I find that relaxing has some real merits.

My landscaper, Tim, works very hard to make sure the finished product is to my satisfaction and so far, he has delivered. I asked him to remove all but 2 of those annoying wooden-box type garden beds. Yes….there was a total of 8 of them, and they were built by the homeowner before us, probably about a hundred years ago. The boards were all starting to give in to the ravages of weather and time and I noticed last year that the ‘beds’ were harboring weeds more than anything else.  However, my giant hosta lived in one of the beds and some of her children lived in another one. There was no way I would chance uprooting them and replanting them elsewhere. So, I asked Tim to leave those 2 beds alone and plant a lovely lawn where the others had been. He agreed, and in one fell swoop (two days, really), the deed was done. 

With the offending, crumbling boxes gone, the giant hosta stood out like a monarch. I decided to give her a name, and came up with “Francie Nolan”, or just Fran, for short.  Francie Nolan was the protagonist in the novel “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”. She was as tenacious as they come and managed to survive during an era that knew no electric washing machines, TVs, computers, credit cards, iPhones, Chuckie Cheeses, or even McDonalds, come to think of it. Still, she managed to grow up into a fine young woman and went on to graduate college (or so we assume), even though she totally skipped high school. Now, that’s tenacious! My giant hosta certainly was in the same category, surviving all sorts of trials and tribulations. So, “Fran” now had a name of her very own.

The days slowly passed until April turned into May, and May gently glided into June, and Fran just kept on growing. The day lilies at the other end of the bed soon crowded together, like people huddled in a bunch on the street, watching Queen Fran wave to them from her throne.  All was right with the world. The brown scars where the other beds used to be were dotted with grass seed, as I patiently waited for green sprouts to appear. I lounged in my hot tub, gazing at the panorama and envisioned a lovely green lawn that Fran could reign over -- when suddenly, I had a vision! 

I know what my yard needs, I thought – a fountain! Yes, a beautiful, waterfall-kind-of-noise fountain. So, off to the home center I went with dreams of a fountain filling my head.

Welcome to The Garden Centre and to Fountain Reality 101.

“What type of fountain are you looking for?” the salesman asked.

“You know, the type that has water cascading down into a kind of bowl or dish” I lamely answered.

“Yes, I know that,” he replied swatting at some invisible gnat or something. “What I meant was, what type of fountain material do you want?”

Hmmm.. I thought all fountains were made of stone, or concrete. Wrong assumption, I found out.

“Look..there are fountains made of stone, concrete, and copper, brass, bamboo, ceramic, bronze, resin, and fiberglass,” he said. Seeing the confused look on my face, he inwardly groaned as he asked me the next question:

“What style fountain would you like? Before you ask me, let me tell you that there are, for example, fountains that are two tier, three tier, all the way up to five tier; urn, floor, solar, waterfall, cascading, lighted….” he droned on. I was starting to feel a headache coming on. This was going to be anything but easy! “And, what type of water hookup are you going for?” he asked next. Hookup?? Oh, geeze! Who even thought of a thing like that! I guess I should have…..

Feeling a bit defeated, I thanked him for his time, and making some kind of excuse, I told him I’d be back in a day or so. The look on his face said, “Yeah…right…sure you will” He was simply determined by this point to shove some type of fountain in the trunk of my car. I kept saying ‘no thank you..not right now’, but he and his voice followed me all the way to my car,  badgering me with his descriptive verbiage of fountains.

Not too long after that, I was back at home and stood by my gazebo taking in the beauty of the whole place. Fran looked peaceful and serene and the lilies seemed to be waving to me. In my mind’s eye, I could see a lovely fountain smack dab in the center of the yard.

With a little grin, it hit me! All I really needed to do was to call Tim! Let him advise me and above all else, let him install the fountain. There you go, I thought to myself. Problem all solved!

Then, I spotted it.

Right in the dead center of the yard, a hole about 6 inches in diameter broke through the crust of the seeded area. Oh, no!!!! Could it possibly be??! Could this be Chuckie making his grand appearance once again?? Right where I intended my new fountain to go?!!

This was going to be some summer, I decided. Yep, some summer for sure.

I’m not exactly sure, but I think I heard Fran snort at me.

Remember...it's still only June! I can't wait to see what Fran will look like in another month or so!