Hello seashore

After a disappearing act over the past 30 hours or so, the sun has reemerged. Cristy and I drove (she drove, I rode) over 3 hours through steady, and at times heavy rain to reach our beach destination. Here we are anticipating a couple of days of distance from the demands of the world to meditate with the ocean, search for seashells and cuddle up together. With a few cups of delicious coffee and the promise of a few hours of sunshine this afternoon, the day is looking absolutely brilliant. Ciao.

Good omens

Morning activity has begun, some of the inhabitants of this household are awake at 5:28. The coffee is brewing and already is filling the air with that delicious sweet smell. I like the yummy sweet flavored variety. Cristy calls it “jelly coffee” but I like it anyway.

After all the dogs have their breakfast, they generally need to make a trip to the backyard. I usually escort Jackie outside. He is old and suffers from a variety of phobias; having an escort helps to keep things moving. The morning sky was still dark and had a thin, shining white layer of clouds. But the most startling thing was the large halo around the moon. White, expanding to pale yellow, ringed with a narrow band of dark orange. I thought it was a good omen.

No one in my recent ancestry, to the best of my knowledge, believed in omens, so I have no particular knowledge that my hunches regarding omens mean anything at all. I simply choose to believe that when I see something spectacular, or merely wonderful in nature, that it signifies something positive.

On Monday morning, two days ago, I made the trek over to my house to take care of some chores. The house was listed again and I had received two offers with a verbal promise of a third to be submitted, all within just a couple of days. Things were moving much more rapidly than I had expected. But the fact remained that Cristy and I had released the house we loved. We had been told, from the sellers themselves, that another couple was “waiting in the wings” to purchase their house in the event that our contract fell through. And it did. Consequently, we had no reason not to believe that this other couple would not have immediately signed a contract to purchase that lovely home.

But on Monday, after picking up some stray palm branches in the front yard and walking up the steps to the door, something caught my eye and I paused. It was a hummingbird. The smallest flash of ruby. The tiny bird lighted on a jasmine vine and stopped for a time. It seemed like a full minute. I didn’t move and before long noticed a companion hummingbird nearby, also resting in the jasmine. They both soon darted away, but my brain had already labeled it a good omen. I just didn’t say it out loud to myself or anyone else.

On Tuesday, I completed negotiations for the sale of my house, much more easily and expeditiously than I thought possible and had a signed contract by 2:30pm. Cristy called me shortly after 5 as I was preparing to leave the office.

She had spoken with our realtor and requested that she inquire about the status of our beloved “lost” house. It seemed that all hope was not lost. By 6:30pm, we had a verbal agreement for new purchase terms and by 7pm I was doing the happy dance. We signed contracts a couple of hours later and sent them back to our realtor.

Today, on this day of the halo morning moon, we will have a contract, signed by both sets of parties, to again, purchase the house that we loved from the moment we first walked inside. For a few dark days, our hopes vanished and then, like magic, foretold by the good omens of nature, the tumblers started falling into place.

Diane's weather almanac

OK, it's not the Farmer's Almanac, but I stand by it.

There are four principles that govern the weather in Houston:
1. The last cold snap of winter will coincide with the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo
2. After this last cold snap, the next 2-3 weeks will be heavenly, true resort weather
3. But before long, it will be clear that it’s going to be a hot summer
4. The first cool snap of fall will occur the third week of September.

Soon fall will be on the way. Just yesterday Gracyn was in the back yard foraging for acorns. No, she’s not a squirrel, she’s a dog, but well, she’s Gracyn. It reminded me of an acorn story from a previous autumn.

One particular October morning in 1988 as I was preparing to leave the house for work, I noticed a distinct clattering noise coming from outside. The noise grew much louder when I walked outside. It was coming from across the street and I took a few steps then stopped in amazement. A large oak tree was literally raining acorns. Hundreds, no thousands of acorns were pouring out of the tree and bouncing across the sidewalk and street below. I have never seen anything like that since. Gracyn would have loved it.

Labor day weekend

Cristy is making a pie for a birthday gathering later this evening. The fact that she is in the kitchen is not highly unusual but the fact that someone is in the act of preparing food is of immense curiosity to the family canines. We live in a very small house with limited floor space in the kitchen. It is further limited with the lumbering shapes of one or two large dogs lounging on the kitchen floor and the three small dogs hovering around Cristy’s feet, following her as she walks from pantry to refrigerator to mixing bowl, stepping across the large dogs along the way.

Most of the dogs will lose interest in this activity and wander away except for Tristan. He will stay close to Cristy as long as she is occupied with any food related activity because there is always a possibility that something, anything, might fall to the floor and he will be there to discover whether or not it is edible. Generally, this tactic pays off for him and saves us from sweeping up stray bits of carrot, potato peel or bread crumbs.

I wlll be next up for food-prep duty, making a simple lemon-blueberry cake. The blueberries in the refrigerator are not getting any younger and it is time to enjoy them. Tristan’s reward for his vigilance on this day may be in the shape of a small, round sweet tasting berry.

Recapturing language III

Somehow, over the years, it seems to me that the context for using the word impress, and its variations has changed. When I was a young girl, I recall hearing this word's use in a near-literal context: making an impression.

As a child makes wax castings from the impressions of animal footprints in the wet earth surrounding a lake, making an impression on another person through the essence of your own humanity is a tangible thing. In this regard, the impression made is a true change. It could perhaps be a change of mood, lifting someone's spirits by exhibiting inspiration. Or, it could be a change of outlook or opinion, validating the strength of an idea through living example. The fact that the vital energy of a person has the potential to leave a mark, or impression, on the life of another is lovely.

All too often, the word impress carries the connotation of instilling envy in another by exhibiting external trappings: what we do or say, what we have, who we know, where we have been. Impressing is so seldom linked to the person.

How would our lives be different if our impressions were guided more through genuine interactions with others and less by peripheral, non-human qualities? What this means to me is that if we take the time to honestly interact with another person and absorb the impact of their spirit and/or share the essence of our own humanity, we can effect change. We can generate ideas, open minds, soothe souls. We can appreciate each other for the innate human decency that we possess; we can both make and receive lasting impressions.

Managing disappointment

Soon, both of the real estate transactions with which I am involved will be withdrawn. It is a huge disappointment. Cristy and I had found a house that is perfect for us. We were going to get married in that house. We were going to share our days and nights there, establishing our lives and creating a secure home. But now, the last hopes of this dream are unraveling.

The couple that pledged to buy my house are apparently not in a financial position to complete the purchase transaction. I have my own perception, opinion and judgment around that, but none of it changes the facts or makes the disappointment any less pronounced.
I will eventually sell my house and Cristy and I will eventually find another house. But it will not be the one we have imagined that we would call our home.

Amidst this disappointment, our perspective is one of gratitude. We still have jobs, good health, reliable transportation, assets and income. Above all, we still have each other, our love and the infinite possibilities that exist as our future unfolds together. We have lost only a little bit of time and money. Perhaps it is the cost of a lesson.

Commuting

Since school started, traffic has been slower. Perhaps drivers are entering the freeway on new schedules to accommodate a quick school drop-off. In any event, I find myself running late most days now. It is curious that I feel a sense of relief, perhaps even a slight surge of happiness to witness the particular reason for any given traffic snarl. Debris on the road, or perhaps a stalled vehicle.

Today, I found a curious delight, when after creeping along for 10 minutes, I discovered the flashing lights of a police car, tow truck and the snarled wreckage of two vehicles. What an inconvenient way to begin a Tuesday.

Traffic speed immediately resumed to freeway speeds in the shining morning sunlight for several miles until the next little snag.

Incidents of road rage seem less common these days. There will always be impatient drivers that have an urgent need to pass other cars on the road or discourteous drivers that honk or flash headlights to express their frustration. But, thankfully, the escalating vehicular warfare that made pronounced headlines ten years ago seems to have diminished.

Commuting is not for sissies. We’re all just trying to get to work. It might be OK to cut each other a little slack once in a while, especially on the freeway.