49 hours

My clock will be turned back one hour on Saturday night. I want to turn it back now, but then everything would be wrong tomorrow.

Still. Not everything has been right this week.

I want to turn it back now because I want time to turn back just a little. Not a lot. Just one hour of a little.

This has been a weird week. Ann's mother died at 5:30 Monday morning. We received an email from her ex-convict, Mexican much younger boyfriend. In broken English he wrote "your mother dead" and we sat staring at the screen like someone had just sent us a chain letter that we didn't quite understand.

Phone calls to Mexico and France and Phoenix and even to Peru. Arrangements. Cremation. Emails from her mother's Facebook friends. More phone calls. More emails.

Ann must buy a ticket to Phoenix, but not until her sister comes home from her vacation in Peru. They must make their plans. The day they drive to Mexico. The day they drive back to Phoenix.

Still Ann has not cried. She did at first, but only a little. Now it feels unreal. It's just a thought, not a reality yet. I know when she sees her sister she'll cry. They'll both cry and that will be good.

Meanwhile, I will stay at home until December when we will fly down together for a memorial. Meanwhile, I will continue working at the school in the mornings and walking dogs the rest of the day. The rest of the week.

Only one less dog since an owner "fired" me. A training dispute, she called it. Ironically, I was formulating a letter to fire her. So today, I didn't walk the dog I normally walk every day and I was happy about it. Well, sort of happy. I wasn't nearly as tired as I normally am on a Friday. I no longer have the dog pulling at my left arm, lunging forward on the wet sidewalks, making me worry that I'd slip on the slick leaves.

Yes, training differences. We can call it that.

And in between Ann's mother dying and the dog not being walked today were all these stupid worries that consume me at times, making it hard to sleep, making it hard to believe in myself, making me doubt the path I am on. Can my body take being a dog walker as a career? Can I make a living at it? I mean, I am making somewhat of a living, but I can't walk that many more dogs to increase my income. Do I really want to go back to teaching?

And what about Ann? She deserves time off, too. She deserves to find a passion and follow it. But we need her health insurance and her steady income. If I went back to teaching, even more part time than I already am, she might get that break and my body might not hurt so much from dogs pulling me down the street.

But it was only really one dog and now that dog is gone. I will miss her, but at the same time I won't miss the owner who thinks everything the dog does wrong is my fault. Yes, I am too excited and therefore the dog jumps on me and bites my hands or my collar or my hair. Yes, I am too excited. If I were calmer, she'd behave. Calmer like the owner only every time I see her with the dog, there is the same behavior -- the biting, the jumping, the crazy flaying and spinning.

Training differences. I should say.

So much is swirling around my head. Ann wants me to get angry and realize that this is for the best. No more dog that destroys my body. I want Ann to cry about her mother's death so I can comfort her. She must be sad. Or maybe not yet. Maybe it's not her reality yet.

It's so hard to figure out what to do next. That's why I need the extra hour so I don't have to anything next. The other 48 hours I'll do something -- mostly practicing letting it go -- but during that one hour I just want to sleep in or sit in the sun (if there's sun) or eat a waffle with blueberries or raid the Halloween candy one more time.

A 49 hour weekend. How blissful. Or so I hope.

On Second Thought

It crossed my mind today that maybe I don't want to be a dog walker. For those who know me well, this second guessing comes as no shock since I'm always doubting my decisions. But today, while walking only 3 dogs, I thought, "Maybe this isn't what I want to be doing."

Of course, I'm sick with some laryngitis thingy, am feeling overwhelmed by both teaching part-time and owning my own dog walking business, and have realized that owning one's own business means it's really difficult to call in sick. Perhaps this isn't the best time to be second guessing myself, but it's against my nature not to so here I go.

What I miss this year (as opposed to last year when I was just freelance writing and walking dogs) is the extra time I had in my life for things like cooking, cleaning, paying bills, and just thinking. I miss the thinking the most -- those quiet times in the morning when I could really stretch out and collect my thoughts. I don't have that anymore, which is probably partly the reason I am sick and partly the reason for my second thoughts.

So today I thought, "How do I get that back? How do I get that time back to write, to read, to think?" I could quit teaching, though that won't happen until next June since I can't really abandon my contract. Or I could quit dog walking and just teach part time. But here's the irony of it all -- dog walking gives me the physical stimulation I need as well as the time to really think about my writing and my life. Teaching sucks it out of me and by "it" I mean everything that grounds me.

Even this year. I'm only teaching a minimal amount and already it feels consuming. And the weird thing is, I'm not really into it. I go in, do my job, but nothing feels like it's on fire and that's the part I used to really like about teaching -- being on fire. Of course, being on fire is probably what literally burned me out because frankly, no one can sustain that kind of energy for very long. I'm living proof.

So now, between the walking dogs all day long and the teaching in the mornings, I'm back to that place I was before where there's no time for me. No time for thinking. No time to relax. No time to breathe. No time for doctor's appointments or going to the post office or shopping at the Farmer's Market.

No wonder I'm sick. And I know better. Don't make decisions when you feel crappy because the decision will always end up being crappy.

So I shall go to bed. I shall sleep. I shall shake this thing and get through what needs to be gotten through. No more second thoughts. I just need to find time for the first ones, then I can have the second ones!

I Just Had Ta

Each week I put in about 30-40 miles of walking with my dog walking business. My feet hurt by the end of the week. On Friday, I got a massage and my massage therapist said, "Do you walk on weekends?"

"Not usually," was my mumbled response since she always puts me in a state of such relaxation, it's hard to do anything but grunt and groan.

"Good, you need to give your body a rest."

It's true, but today I just had to go for a walk down by the lake and up through the neighborhoods. It's beautiful out there and with the promise of rain for the next few weeks, this seemed like my last chance for a shirt-sleeve walk and photographs. So armed with the dog, my camera, and my backpack we headed out for the lake and then up through the neighborhoods, about 5 miles in total.

While the lake was beautiful, the part I like the most about the walk is the passage through Sam Smith Park. Whoever designed that park needs continued accolades because it's the best kept secret in Seattle. The trees are blazing with color and the park invites you to just stroll and take your time. It leads to the tunnel over I-90 and down to the lake. I spend a lot of time in this park and I never tire of it. So today, I whipped out the camera and took photos of the trees, the park, and the views of Seattle.



I know I should have rested my body today, but really, I just had to walk this morning. The benefits of the walk had to outweigh the damage to my body. It just had ta!

Chagrin

Much to everyone's chagrin, I do not own a cell phone. I may be stupid in many ways, but I cannot tell you how much I loathe and despise them. It's like they rule everyone's life and they have become an acceptable excuse for being rude. How many people do you know, with whom you are carrying on a conversation, stop everything to answer their phone? No apologies, no turning it off and answering the message later, no, "do you mind if I get this?" Nope, they look at the phone and maybe, maybe say, "I'm sorry, I have to take this call from my brain surgeon," though more times than not, they take the call and stop all conversation.

Okay, I'm ranting. My rant comes from the fact that yesterday, as I crossed the street at a designated crosswalk complete with red lights and my own walk sign, I almost got run over by a woman who was looking at her cell phone while driving. I've seen this many times and have often yelled or worse while similar cell phone addicted drivers run red lights, but yesterday was beyond comprehension. I was halfway through the crosswalk! I had one dog walking on my right side, the other on my left. Luckily, they were close at my side and I had control of them because when I looked up (HALFWAY ACROSS) a minivan was moving on through the crosswalk with nary a drop in speed limit. I yelled, "Hey!" as loud as I could and the woman looked up from her cell phone as she passed me by and then waved.

Waved! Like "Oh hi, didn't see you!" Didn't see me? What about the red light you just blatantly ran? Or the two large dogs at my side. Or the fact that I had on a bright red shirt? Guess you can't see anything when you're LOOKING DOWN AT YOUR CELL PHONE!

Did she stop? Nope. Just a wave and she was off. The driver behind her stopped and from her car I could see her shaking her head. "I was almost killed here!" I wanted to shout. I wanted someone to notice the stupidity of it all, but instead, I made my way across the rest of the crosswalk to the park on the other side and burned my anger all the way home.

Okay, maybe this has nothing to do with my own refusal to get a cell phone, but I just don't want to become that kind of person - oblivious and over-multi-tasking. Friends call me on their cell phones, family members too, and if I can tell they are driving -- even if it's a hand held device -- I tell them to call me when they've stopped. God knows I don't want them hitting some dog walker in the middle of a cross walk.

Enough of my rant.

In my calm moments, I see the benefit of a cell phone especially as a professional dog walker. But the idea of it feels wrong. I mean, 15 years ago there were dog walkers without cell phones, right? They got along just fine, didn't they? Why is now any different?

My real dislike stems from the idea that we must be communicating or open to the possibility of communicating every second of every day. In other words, we keep ourselves busy -- dialing, texting, talking -- and why? Does it really make for better relationships? Does it really make us more connected? What I love about being a dog walker is that amazingly wonderful quiet time when it's just me and the dogs walking through whatever kind of weather happens to present itself that day. I can think about all sorts of things and not have to feel pressured to connect in ways that pull me into a million different directions. Even when I'm pulled into four different directions I feel ineffective. I can't imagine being pulled into any more.

I know cell phones serve a purpose. I know they aren't evil in and of themselves (though they are made from coltan mined in Africa by hungry teenagers and destroying jungle habitat), but they've somehow turned us into evil people. Okay, lady, you almost hit me. Couldn't you stop your van, get out and apologize? Couldn't you say, "Gosh, I'm so sorry. I was being stupid while talking on my cell phone. I'll never do that again!"

Or were you just too busy talking on the phone to give a #@% that you almost killed me?

My Mother's Daughter

My parents are both excellent cooks or perhaps the proper term these days, with all the cooking shows on, is chefs. My mother, in particular, spends the majority of her life in the kitchen. The rest of her time is spent campaigning for Democrats. While I admire her for both endeavors, I seem to have inherited more of her cooking side than her political side. Let's just say that politics gives me a stomach ache while cooking lowers my blood pressure.

So today, after a long, long week of teaching and dog walking, I needed to make something. I needed to relax and the best way I know of relaxing is to cook.

See, I am my mother's daughter.

It started with the desire to make these power bars that our friend Jessica once made for us when we went camping in Twisp (yes, there is a town named Twisp and the bakery...one of the best in the world in my humble opinion...is called the Cinnamon Twisp). These power bars were so natural, so organic I was certain that would grow roots out of my feet, fertilized by brown rice syrup, organic puffed rice, and steel cut oats.

Then Jessica left for India and I never got the recipe. Well, she's back now and today we made power bars complete with candied ginger, organic almonds and pecans, and yes, the infamous candied ginger.

As far as cooking goes, the power bars were beyond easy, so before Jessica arrived, I started to make chicken soup and prep for basil cream chicken pot pie. By the time Jessica arrived, I'd used every pan we own so we had to wash the dishes before we could melt the candied ginger with the brown rice syrup.


Now we're waiting for the basil cream chicken pot pie to finish in the oven complete with homemade biscuits on top. I've tried to help out by doing all the dishes, but let's just say, it's been a whirlwind in the kitchen. My mother would be (and probably is) proud.

Tomorrow there's a lot to do. Papers to grade, lessons to plan, billing to organize, dog walks to schedule along with cleaning the house and doing the weekly shopping. But I gave myself today -- no obligations, no commitments -- just an apron, a dirty pan, and some melted candied ginger!