Gratitude

I have been challenged to acknowledge the reality of the various situations that compose my life, and to be thankful for them. Even the ones that seem small, even the ones that are difficult, even--especially--those that are less than perfect.

I am working on this as a discipline and this week I am thankful for many things. This will be the first of my Thankful Thursdays. I am collecting the list throughout the week, but will post some of it on Thursdays alone.

This week I am thankful for

-The staff I supervise, and how working with them challenges me, strengthens me, teaches me about them and about me. I love that they laugh a lot, and help me to learn to laugh at myself. Tomorrow we are getting together, and I am really looking forward to it!



-My Christmas tree decorated with ornaments designed by many people over the years who have sat in my various living rooms and colored on a plastic ball.

-My Christmas tree angel and my black fleece cape, both gifts from my sister that are perfect for me. They remind me that in spite of myself, I am known by at least one person. Thanks, Libby.

-My hairless dog Lincoln who spent the early evening puking all over the house. He brings me great joy, and caring for him is a gift.

-My mismatched furniture that was all someone else's first. I have been blessed by generous family & friends and each piece fits together to make my home.

-My success in actually reading an issue of Sojourners when it arrived yesterday.

-My messy kitchen that tonight afforded an opportunity to spend a great time with a good friend.

-I am thankful too for my story of y2k that I shared with Melissa tonight--it keeps me humble and is a great example of how I am loved even though I am not perfect.

KicKing it, worKing it, parKing it. celebration of K

I have always held a strong affinity for the letter “K.” Obviously, this is due to my first name, Katherine, and the many, many nicknames I have which also begin with “K.”

“K” is a tricky letter. I remember playing name games at camp which consist of rhymes, songs, or chants that include one’s name and a favorite item with the same first initial.

I was generally left to kaleidoscopes and kangaroos, and then--thanks to the rise in availability of international produce throughout the 90’s—kiwi.

Because not that many words begin with the hard “k” sound, it is easy to believe that the letter “k” doesn’t show up that much in daily conversation or writing. That is what I thought, until I lost the use of my “k”

Not long after getting my dog, Lincoln, he jumped onto my keyboard and took my “k”, “0” and “-“ keys. He later took my “u” as well. Because I used “k” so often—far more so than I ever realized—the little rubber stem that remained did not function for long.

So there I was, a girl without a “k.”

In addition to my name, I also used “k” at least 50 other times a day while typing the any or all of following words:

-thank (thanks, thankfully)
-work, working
-know
-like
-keep, kept
-task
-link
-pick
-think, thinking
& several other proper names that begin with or include “k”

I went without a “k” for several months. What was at first another endearing example of my absentmindedness and general dishevelry, became an annoyance to me and my coworkers.
“I’ll take notes, but try not to use too many ‘k’s’” doesn’t play month after month, and the sympathy did not last as long as my negligence.

FINALLY I remembered to put a call into Dell to get a new keyboard. With the old keyboard, I made due by keeping a “k” on the clipboard of my computer, and pressing Ctrl-V every time I needed a k. While typing this post I have hit Ctrl-V as often as I have used the shiny new ‘k.” Muscle memory is a powerful thing.

I am looking for some deeper meaning here. Perhaps...

You don’t know what you have until it is gone, OR

When you allow something unhealthy to go on for too long your habits will adapt and the unhealthy will seem normal. OR

Allowing the urgent to crowd out the important keeps progress at bay

Really, it came down to the fact that last week the “0” / “)” key also stopped working, and I could not longer effectively make smiley face emoticons. Even I have my limits ;)

Lilacs & my dad

Last month I was coveting the firey forsythia that were blooming all over the place everywhere I seemed to go--my neighborhood, all around Wheeling, on every campus I visited, everywhere except my house.

I spent a good bit of daydreaming time wondering where I will plant my future forsythia. Will it look good near to my butter yellow house? Should I plant some along the edge of my yard near the road? What sort of exposure does a forsythia need? What sort of exposure does my yard get? Would I get arrested if I cut other people's forsythia to paste into my yard this year? (Don't worry, this never left the hypothetical)

Then I left my house for nearly a week to work from Morgantown. Lincoln & I stayed with my sister & brother-in-law, their son (The wonderful Andrew) and their TWO dogs. More later on the tales of Lincoln's adventures with Molly & Megan. Anyway, when I got back to my house I opened the back door to let Lincoln out and was delighted to be overwhelmed by the scent of lilacs. I have no Forsythia, but I do have the biggest lilac bush I have ever seen in full bloom in my backyard!

I took this picture to show the scale of this bush, note my neighbor's car

The smell of lilacs immediately takes me back to my years on campus at CMU. There is (or at least was) an entire bank covered with lilacs next to Morewood and I walked by it every day between my dorm and classes. When the lilacs bloomed, spring had arrived. Even with a chill remaining in the air, and gray Pittsburgh skies over head, the lilacs brought hope--the end of the semester was coming soon! Lilacs also bloomed after carnival was over, which meant some time to relax and enjoy friends without rehearsals, production meetings, and stress. I hadn't realized what good feelings lilacs inspire, but this week has reminded me.

The first thing I did was cut a bunch and take them to my next door neighbors, Melinda & Chris. I hadn't met them yet since moving in, and the vase of lilacs was a good introduction I think. The next morning I cut a bunch for my table and put them in my beautful maid of honor gift vase that I (sadly) rarely use, and they fill it perfectly.

I have been sharing my lilacs with everyone. Rachel & Karen came over and took some home with them. I took a bouquet to Abby to mark her going away dinner. I am planning to cut tons for the Wine Gala this weekend. And there are still PLENTY more. If you are reading this and would like some lilacs, let me know because I have plenty.

I really love to give gifts, but can't afford to buy things for everyone I love. [I haven't read the Five Love Languages, but if I did, I imagine gift giving would be my love language.] This lilac bush has been such a blessing because I can give and give from it and still have plenty more to give. This is the first time I have had such abundance to share, and I think for the first time I understand why my dad spends so much time each year planting a huge vegetable garden.

Half of my parent's yard is taken up by my dad's four tiered garden. All my life I remember him spending Saturday after Saturday throughout the spring out there. First tilling the ground, then preparing the plants & seeds, letting Libby & me help him plant the peas, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, peppers (several kinds), tomatoes (several kinds), cucumbers, eggplants, and zucchini. For a family of four, my dad's garden FAR out produced our vegetable intake potential. Yet he continued to plant the whole thing every year.

I know that for my dad, his time in the garden was therapy. Like me, his work was often made up of abstract, on going processes without clear end points, and he strove to do his work excellently every day of the week. On the weekend though, his concrete mind sought a project that he could control, design, begin, and end. When the entire plot had been turned over with his bright red roto-tiller, it was done. It would not need to be done again for 12 months. *aaahhhhh* Then all the plants were in, and we were giving them their first watering. *aaahhhhh* A week or two later, all the tomato plants had been staked. *aaahhhhh* Each step was hard labor to be sure, but I think the satisfaction of a completed task means a lot to my dad. (ask him about his lists)

Now he's retired and his garden is his work. When I asked him a couple weeks ago if he'd be working on the garden that weekend he told me "absolutely not. The weekends are for spending time with your mom. I do garden work during the week so my weekends are free." That's my dad--Mr. Discipline and Planning, even in retirement.

Regardless of WHEN my dad works on his garden, I know WHY he does it--to share. My father has planted a big garden for 30 years so that he has a gift he can give freely and generously to people he cares about--family, friends, neighbors, & co-workers. More than once my dad has come home from his golf league with a few buddies for a cold one on the porch and a trip through the produce department. I remember him coming home at lunchtime in the summers so he could pick veggies for his coworkers' dinners. No one leaves my parent's house in the summer without a bag full of vegetables. Everytime my dad visits me between June and October I get something fresh and delicious. I don't know if he is looking forward to these moments of sharing , or the people he'll share with when he maps out his plan each year and spends days literally bent in half planting and weeding, but I am pretty sure that's why he does it. Well, that and the taste of a homegrown tomato still warm from the sun.

I didn't have to work at all to have all these wonderful lilacs to share, but I am glad to be carrying on some of the generosity I learned from my dad by sharing the abundance I was so freely given.

If you read all the way to here, you deserve a special treat. I have no pics of my dad's garden, so here's a picture of Rachel & I holding Norah & Lincoln. Notice that Norah & Lincoln's outfits are coordinated--pink * brown stripes and spots

I have a dog

Meet Alfred Abraham Lincoln--or just Lincoln.

He is an American Hairless Terrier, and has been my dog for two weeks now. His first family had to move away for work and couldn't take him. My friend, Beth, already knew and loved him, but due to her prior dog commitments (Gracie & the poodle, Sir Chuck) couldn't take him, still she promised to find him a good home.

Meanwhile in my life, I have a reputation (duly earned) as, well, not an animal person. I have always felt that domesticated animals are a bit of an aberration. I struggle with a culture that puts the lives of animals above humans, etc, etc. And yet, in a life that has become more and more about me, I thought having something living that relies on me would be good for my character. Some of this feeling came from a great This I Believe essay I heard last year. You can listen to it here.

So I started thinking seriously about getting a dog, building my character, allowing my priorities to be set by something other than my convenience. Still, my character only stretches so far, and I was still unable to get behind the idea of shedding. I am still deeply in love with my new home and couldn't imagine having dog hair all over the place. Flash forward to about 6 weeks ago.

When Beth mentioned Lincoln (nee Alfred) to our friend Jenny, with whom I had been discussing my dog dreams and limitations, Jenny realized this could be a match!

And so it is! I can't believe how much I am enjoying life with Lincoln. He's got lots of energy, and so we go for walks nearly every day. He's snuggly, but not too needy. He's totally house trained (YAHOO!) and charming. Of course, he's a bit mouthy, but we are working on that. Also, he's, you know, hairless, which makes him a great conversation piece--I've talked with more of my neighbors in the last two weeks than in the last six months.

Finally, due to his hairless nature, he has to wear clothes in the winter to stay warm and in the summer to keep from getting sunburned. I imagine this will be tons of fun as the seasons pass and I decide if I want to be one of those pet owners who makes/buys LOTS of clothes for their dog, or just one who makes due with the outfits he came with. What do you think? Below is Lincoln in his very trendy puffy vest with faux fur collar. Enjoy!

I am trying to catch him on video when he does kooky hairless dog things--check back for updates!