Author: ktmiklos

Categories
Good Life

Running

Some years ago, I was a runner. I wasn’t hardcore; I didn’t run every day or compete in marathons. I was a casual runner, a neighborhood runner, slowly but steadily wearing away the tread on my shoes.

At one point, I did sign up for a local 5k event, mostly out of curiosity. On a warm, muggy morning, I successfully crossed the finish line, not the first person to do so that day – but also not the last. My “runner’s high” from that event seemed to last for quite a while, bringing new energy to my casual approach.

Gradually, however, I stopped running. My priorities shifted. Work involved new and increasing responsibilities sandwiched between long hours of driving to and from the office. Family schedules often required early mornings and late evenings, juggling clubs and practices and friends. Running seemed inconvenient, impractical, especially on days of blazing sun and sizzling temperatures.

But now, the kids are grown. The work commute no longer exists. Finding the time to run is no longer the challenge it once was. And currently, the hottest days are behind us, at least for a while. Cool breezes invite open windows and outside activity.

I’m older, of course. Creakier. My joints and muscles need extra coaxing and care. It’s unlikely that I can build my running stamina as quickly as I once did. It would probably be unwise to try.

Still, I’ve started looking at running shoes, comparing features and styles. I’ve been thinking about the music that will motivate me on those days when I’m just not feeling it. I’ve been scouting out running paths, reviewing my old route and considering new additions.

It might take a while before I’m back to where I used to be. I may never truly get there; I may need to adjust my expectations. That’s okay. I’m just looking forward to feeling that runner’s high once more.

Categories
Family Food Life

Connection

When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about pancakes. This surprised me. I like pancakes, but I’m not sure why they’d be on my mind right now. I rarely eat them or even consider them now that my sons are grown.

Nevertheless, the more I thought about them, the more I wanted them. So, I decided to make pancakes for breakfast.

Before I could get started, however, my husband announced that he was making pancakes for breakfast. He’s also not much of a pancake eater, and I hadn’t yet mentioned my plans to him. So, his decision seemed especially random, especially remarkable.

We’ve been married a long time and agree on a great many things. We also disagree on a regular basis. I love chocolate; he can take it or leave it. His favorite color is sunset orange; mine is emerald green. We’ve had our fair share of “lively” discussions about world events, house decor, grocery shopping lists, and driving styles.

In the end, however, we always come together. As we will this morning, sharing our unexpected (and delicious) pancake connection.

Categories
Family Pets

Dreams

There’s a scene in Steel Magnolias where Shelby describes her dream of getting old, sitting on the back porch, covered in grandchildren.

My husband and I feel that way about dogs.

We do hope to one day be surrounded by grandkids, oodles of them, but that isn’t up to us. Our sons and their partners get to live their lives according to their plans, not ours, and those plans may or may not involve children.

In the meantime (and perhaps, eventually, in addition to), we can surround ourselves with dogs.

Which brings me to Maggie, who joined our pack this week. She’s a middle-aged pup, cute as a button, quite possibly smarter than me, and still full of energy despite being well past her baby days.

Maggie came to the local animal shelter as a stray. She wasn’t microchipped, so they couldn’t immediately locate her owner, but they cleaned her up, treated her for a severe case of fleas, and posted her picture for several days in the hope that she’d be claimed. She wasn’t, and we scooped her up as soon as she was available for adoption.

It’s clear that Maggie’s been cared for in the past. She’s sociable, trusting and well-behaved. I don’t know her story before the shelter or why she ended up in the sad condition she was in, but I’m grateful to whoever loved her before she came to us. If I could give them a message, it would be that she’s in good hands. We will love and care for her for the rest of her life.

Where I live, there’s a limit of three dogs per household. Maggie’s our third, so we won’t be adopting any more. We also want to be sure we have the time and resources to properly care for our pup family, and three is just the right number for us – and for them. Our little pack is complete.

Here’s to getting old, sitting on a porch (or on a couch or a bed or in a backyard), covered in dogs – or whatever it is that brings happy dreams.

Categories
Animals Nature

Joey

It appears that we have a family of opossums living in our backyard shed.

Several times, my husband and I’ve seen a full-grown opossum walking on the fence top, away from the shed and toward our garden, in the early evening. My husband suggested that we put apple slices in the yard, which made sense to me. We reasoned that opossums are helpful in keeping bugs away, but we’d also like to hang on to any tomatoes and peppers that survive the summer’s blazing heat. A tasty snack could be a win/win for humans and marsupials.

Then this morning, we found a small opossum in our trash can not far from the shed. Based on size, it is not far from babyhood. We gently tipped the can on its side and placed a few apple slices on the path to entice baby opossum out.

A baby opossum is called a joey. As of this writing, our Joey is still in the trash can, unwilling to leave. I suppose staring humans makes it nervous, so we’ll leave Joey alone for a bit and hope that it makes its way back home. And now, on trash days, we’ll be sure to check the cans before taking them to the curb.

Today’s cuppa summarizes our initial feelings about finding Joey and, perhaps, Joey’s feelings about being discovered. There’s no reason we can’t get along, however, as long as we share a few apple slices and enough space for roaming.

Categories
Animals Life

Comfort

It’s common knowledge that dogs can bring comfort. Snuggling with a friendly pup can erase – or, at least, mitigate – stress, fear, anger, and sadness.

There are organizations dedicated to this truth, bringing trained “comfort dogs” to hospitals, natural disasters, and other difficult situations. The people in these groups recognize that domesticated dogs instinctively want – and want to provide – trusted companionship. They thrive through connection and the giving and receiving of affection.

One of these groups, the Lutheran Church Charities K-9 Comfort Dog Ministry, was present yesterday morning as children returned to school in Uvalde, Texas. The group brought ten golden retrievers to support the students, educators, and families. The dogs will be in Uvalde for the next few weeks, helping the community through the trauma they’ve experienced.

Sadly, this isn’t the first time the comfort dogs have been to the site of a school shooting. It’s also unlikely that it will be the last. Amidst the finger-pointing and polarization, this is the painful, shameful reality of things today.

In most ways, humans are the smarter species. We train dogs; dogs obey us. Sometimes, however, humans aren’t the smart ones. Sometimes, dogs are more adept at figuring things out. Simple doesn’t necessarily mean stupid.

Fortunately, we humans do have the capacity to learn and improve. I choose to believe that we can, and one day, we will. Until then, here’s to the comfort dogs, their instinctive wisdom, and the help they give to those who need it.

Categories
Good Nature

Morning

Today started with a view of mountains and trees framing misty fog rising from the water.

The only sounds I heard were chirps and whistles of birds in the trees and an occasional rooster crow from a neighbor’s yard.

As I watched, the sun rose, gradually bathing everything with colors and warmth.

Here’s to the gift of a beautiful morning.

Categories
Family Pets

Tom

My family and I recently got some awful news. Tom, our twelve-and-a-half-year-old cat, is in renal failure.

There’s no cure, but we are doing all we can to care for him. He’s getting lots of ear rubs, cuddles, and under-chin scratches. His appetite waxes and wanes, so we’re offering a steady stream of tasty tidbits and fresh water to tempt him. Often, he prefers quiet isolation, and we’ve created comfy nests of blankets and towels where he can rest.

We want Tom to have more time to roll in the dirt in the backyard and come running when he hears us whistle. To meow at breakfast time and squint contentedly after dinner. To chase a toy across the floor, batting it with his paws and biting it with his fierce little teeth. To sleep, curled up and purring, next to us at night.

We want him to live forever.

But of course, that’s not possible. Not for Tom; not for anybody.

So, we are focused on his comfort, surrounding him with warmth and affection. Making his last days, however many they are, full of whatever makes him happy.

When we welcomed him into our lives, many years ago, we knew the potential for heartbreak. Pets can get sick, injured. They age faster than humans. Always, there is hope for a good, long life, many years of health and vitality, but there is also awareness that there are challenges.

Still, we take a risk. We choose to focus on what makes it all worthwhile.

Perhaps The Beatles said it best –

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.



Categories
Family Life

Home

My childhood home is for sale.

It was designed by my father, an architect. He and my mom imagined it together, planned and coordinated the construction and details for close to a year, and then moved us all in when it was complete.

I vividly remember my first entrance through the front door, a five-year-old excited by the newness of it all, being greeted by my mother in the entryway and told to look around and tell her what I thought. I told her I loved it.

My parents decorated our house in the colors of the times – brown and yellow, rusty red, avocado green and white accents. It would have been easy for them to overdo it, but they managed it well, creating a classy balance of hues and tones. They included personal elements from their lives; large wall hangings from South America, pieces of art they’d created, reminders of their travels together. The house had a distinct personality that was warm and inviting, unique yet comfortable.

After my sister and I grew up and moved out, my parents sold the house. As happens, the new owners made changes to fit their preferences. When they sold, the next owners did the same.

I get it, I understand. The privilege of ownership allows for these decisions, regardless of what was before. But it’s a hard thing, seeing the changes.

Viewing the carefully-staged online photos, the ones intended to attract buyers and encourage showings, I felt cold. Where was the wet bar where my father crafted Pisco Sours while family friends filled the living room with music and dancing and happy energy? What happened to the walls of wooden bookshelves, the ones with a warm glow that perfectly sheltered the collections they contained? Why were walls and doors moved and colors erased? Why did everything seem bland and boring, perfectly perfect yet lacking the personality that I knew so well?

Perhaps if my father was still alive and if my mother wasn’t nearing the end of her life, it wouldn’t matter as much to me. It’s possible I’d look at those photos and be able to focus on the improvements – the extra kitchen space and the hardwood floors and such – and simply be glad that the house exists. Perhaps I could be happy that it is cared for and a place where new memories are being made, even if I don’t like what’s been done to the place itself.

I’m unable, however, to do that right now. All I see is what’s missing. All I notice is that it’s not the house that I remember, the house that I knew.

Not all of my memories are pleasant. There were sometimes troubled times within those walls. And, I have since created my own home, the place where my children grew up and where my adult memories live. When I think of “home” now, that is what first comes to mind. Nevertheless, I will always feel a deep connection to the house my parents built.

Here’s to accepting that life is full of change. Here’s also to allowing for the sad ache that comes from missing what used to be real.

Categories
Family Good Life

Companions

Not long ago, my husband surprised me with a new copy of one of my favorite childhood books. I’d lamented the fact that my copy, saved for decades among my most beloved possessions, was tattered and missing sections. He quietly took note, searched for a replacement, and gifted it to me.

The book is I Go By Sea, I Go By Land, written by P.L. Travers (yes, the Mary Poppins P.L. Travers). It tells the story of Sabrina Lind and the journey she and her brother make from their home in England to the United States during WW II. It’s told from Sabrina’s perspective, a journal of days detailing the people, events, and emotions she feels as she lives the experience. It’s a children’s book, but it’s not a childish story.

As I read my new copy, I felt warm and content, like I was in the presence of a friend. I think of this kind of reading as “comfort reading.” The excitement that comes from reading a book for the first time is wonderful, but the re-reading of a favorite book creates its own special magic. I was grateful for the happy spell made possible by my husband’s loving gift.

Coming to the last sentence, I reflected on how the story, the characters and events, has gently accompanied me throughout my life. It is always present within me, ready to supply an image or a sentence. I can go for days or sometimes weeks without thinking about it and years without rereading the words. Yet when fitting and needed, it is there.

Today’s cuppa celebrates companions – the living ones who listen with their hearts and respond with love, and the ones within our souls, ready to give whenever they are needed. May we all have the good fortune of having both in our lives.


Categories
Family Pets

Busybodies

We’ve brought a new cat into the family. It’s been a rocky process (coincidentally, his name is Rocky). Individually, each of our cats is a soft, loving ball of fur. Put them together, and they become a hissing, yowling mass of claws and teeth.

We are making progress, but it’s been slow. Fortunately, our dogs, Mollie and Charlie, adapted quickly. I’ve even found the three of them – Rocky, Mollie, and Charlie – napping together, content and comfortable in each other’s presence.

Things change, however, when the cats start interacting. At the first sound of feline hissing, the dogs jump to attention and rush to investigate. The process is a noisy one, with much barking and whining and canine gnashing of teeth.

The pups don’t appear to have a favored cat in these kerfluffles. They don’t act as protectors. Rather, they come across as looky-loos, eager to be part of the excitement, full of loud, barking opinions about what’s going on.

I’ve explained to them that they aren’t helping; their involvement in the situation is complicating things. Unsurprisingly, my words haven’t made a difference. They are dogs, after all. So, we’ve learned that any kitty drama will also require some doggy behavior management. There have been many trips outside or into separate rooms, behind closed doors, in recent days.

I suppose this behavior should have been expected, given the way Mollie and Charlie (especially Mollie) respond to squirrels in the yard and neighbors walking on the sidewalk. Busybodies aren’t typically picky when it comes to sharing their opinions about daily life. I do wish, however, that they’d learn from their experiences and notice that we are much happier when they keep the drama to a minimum.

Still, we love them dearly and sometimes even find ourselves laughing at their noisy interference. So, here’s to our busybodies. Their antics may annoy us, but they do make for some funny memories for the family archive.