Today is a very hard day for me.  It is my mother’s birthday.  Her death is still new enough to me that I still struggle at times to accept it.  I also struggle against envying others having their mother when I do not have mine, which I know is not right.  I realize some people never get to know their own mother.  I try to remember all the time I was blessed to have with her and not lament the time my daughter will never have.  There is a constant underlying struggle against pain and sadness, and this is one of the days it hits me particularly hard.  I got to thinking about yesterday and power.  I know my mother would not want me to be sad; that it would hurt her terribly.  And so I am striving to use my newfound power today.  I cannot control that she is no longer physically with me, but I can control what I dwell upon.  So instead of crying over my loss, I am choosing today to celebrate her.  My mother was a firecracker; a true redhead who would let you know it if you’d crossed a line with her.  She truly had no tolerance for fools.  She was also quiet, gentle, and sweet.  She had the most radiant, kindest smile I have ever had the pleasure of receiving.  And I was lucky enough to have received it often during my life with her.  She loved me fiercely; just as I loved her.  We were best friends yet I respected and cherished her as my mother.  I still think I can call her sometimes and I feel lonelier than ever when I realize I cannot.  She may have been generally soft spoken, but she had a great since of humor and instilled in me a love of music — from Julio Iglesias to Willy Nelson to Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata,” his Piano Sonata Number 14, which she played effortlessly on our baby grand almost daily.  I lifted great vernacular from her like “a hair” for a little bit, “the air” for air-conditioning, “fire” for heat, and many others.  Her favorite color was yellow, and one of her favorite flowers remained the daffodil.  I did not learn until her death it is a flower that actually turns toward the sun.  That is what my mother was, a beautiful ray of sunlight that beamed upon you with all the warmth of the sun.  When she went into assisted living, her caregiver immediately named her Sunshine and refused to call her anything else.  I thought it was so very fitting.  She also instilled in me a great love of the literary classics with regard to poetry.  I cannot even see to type through my tears.  I am going to quote the poem I read over and over at her bedside as she lay dying.  I read it so often I have it memorized still.  It is from the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth entitled, “The Daffodils:”

“I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.”

Mama I am trying so hard.  I am trying to smile and be gentle like you.  I am trying not to think about being an orphan or how incredibly lonely I am.  God graced me with your namesake, and I will rejoice in that every day, but especially today.

Well our electricity went out.  It happened in the middle of the night and I woke up to the sight you see pictured before you.  (This was in our family room and those are battery operated candles.)  Fortunately it was neither freezing nor blazing hot; we have experienced power outages during both of those harsh conditions.  I worried first about our indoor fish and outdoor fish (which require motors to oxygenate the water.)  Of course the hubs FREAKED over the state of our fridge — which I bodily refused to let him open.  “WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!” my husband hollered as my little one said she was afraid of the dark.  We now had a family state of emergency and it was my job to keep everyone from wigging out.  “It’s all going to be OK,” I said, trying to mitigate the fallout.  The American prosperity gospel televangelist Joel Osteen said:

“Every day we have plenty of opportunities to get angry, stressed or offended.  But what you’re doing when you indulge these negative emotions is giving something outside yourself power over your happiness.  You can choose to not let little things upset you.”

And so I tried to distract them both.  It turns out we had about a ten hour wait; it could have been so much worse.  The food was saved because the refrigerator stayed closed (miraculously.)  As the sun rose my little one’s fear of the dark, quiet house dissipated into the light.  Having no power gave me time to reflect on how helpless one can become in the blink of an eye.  Secretly dying for coffee, I realized with no small amount of shame there are those all over the world who must live without power daily.  I discovered the real power was within myself — in how I chose to handle the situation versus letting the situation handle me.  From now on I resolve to use more of my own power.

It has been noted several times here that I am a hopeless romantic.  I love it all:  candlelight, soft music, dancing, the sound of rain, the sweet scent of flowers, love letters, etc.  *SIGH*  I married the most handsome man I have ever met who is sincere but not what I would call a romantic.  So imagine my surprise when I found a perfect trail of rose petals going up our steps when I came home.  The “new age” music was playing on the TV, the lights were low, and the house smelled like gardenia.  I made my way up the steps and followed the fresh rose petals all the way into our bedroom where I found they were strewn perfectly across our bed.  A handsome guy greeted me there only he had bright blue eyes and not the deep dark brown my husband has.  If you look closer at the picture you will discover who my mystery man was.  It was Blue, our Siamese cat.  The little devil ruined all my flowers and pulled them one by one out of the vase.  Then, after deflowering them like some kind of a wild animal cleaning a carcass, he deposited all the stems in a corner of our formal dining room.  Upon closer inspection I noted he proceeded to hunker over them as he picked them up with his little teeth and then ferociously “killed” them over and over one by one.  I had left the TV on so the animals wouldn’t be lonely all day which explained the music and the gardenia scent was because I had changed all the wax in my candle warmers the night before.  The American writer and academic at Columbia University, Carolyn Gold Heilbrun, once said, “Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze.”  Ironically she wrote mystery novels under the pen name Amanda Cross.  For several fleeting moments, the dust of my everyday life had taken on a golden haze.  But I still basked in its warm glow before solving the case of the mysterious rose petals.

When I was little I never could figure out why my folks were so proud to see my work up on the board at school.  And then I saw this:  front and center was my little one’s spelling and handwriting work that had been thumbtacked up just outside of her classroom on the display board.  I was coming to get her and when she came out I shrieked, “YOUR WORK!” and pointed to it with wide eyes.  She furrowed her little brow and said, “Yeah” nonchalantly before turning to get her things from her cubby.  Still staring up at it by the time she came back, I said, “It’s on the board!” to which she replied “yes” as if I was not in my right mind.  “I’m so proud of you kiddo!”  “Thanks” she said as led us toward the doors.  “When did you do that?” I asked, trailing behind her.  “Today” she said over her shoulder.  “Well that’s great!” I said while I opened the car door for her.  “Thank you” she said again in that careful voice that indicated she thought I might be nuts.  “Do we have any snacks?” she asked as I buckled her in.  I know she has been proud of her work before because she has shown it to me.  The little thing is so darn tight-lipped sometimes it is absolutely maddening.  Maybe it’s that she was uncomfortable with her work being displayed.  Maybe it’s that she didn’t think it was a big deal.  Maybe she thought I was wacko for being so thrilled about it.  The 16th President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, said, “Don’t worry when you are not recognized, but strive to be worthy of recognition.”  I finally decided that, whatever her thoughts, at least she was on the board!

I do not like the stereotypical image of the woman who LIVES for shoes and handbags.  Having said that, I must confess I do have two nice bags — one for “every day” and one more for evening.  The only shoes I like are sandals because, in part, I have wide feet.  I have also reached the stage in my life where I absolutely refuse to keep any part of my body cooped up unless it is for something truly exceptional.  Texas is getting to be like Arizona or Florida in that it is simply too hot to wear jeans most of the time and sandals are acceptable in the evenings.  I have about half a dozen good shoes and I do enjoy the feeling of wearing ones that are not so shot they flatten your feet.  So, I went with my little one and introduced her to the shoe section at Nordstrom’s.  Naturally more girly than I, and not having grown up the way I did with no money to really buy shoes, my little one squealed with delight.  “Oh Mommy LOOK at these sparkly ones!  They look like the have diamonds on them!” she exclaimed.  Realizing for the first time I had a little partner in crime, I started asking her what else she liked.  I went in looking for a good pair of walking sandals for summer that would hold up and looked nice.  I was in luck because right now my favorite color blue is in season.  “You should definitely get those Mama” she said, sounding more like fifteen than five.  And then the unthinkable happened.  My husband decided to show up at the mall.  Looking at him as if he were some type of unicorn, my little one and I were thrilled to see him.  He said he just wanted to tell us goodbye before he went to work.  We hugged and kissed him and our little one said “Don’t go Daddy!” as she attached herself to him like a barnacle.  I snapped this picture with her literally clamped around him while he attempted to drag himself out of the shoe department.  The Japanese poet Ryunosuke Satoro said, “Let your dreams outgrow the shoes of your expectations.”  That is something I wish for myself, my precious little one, and for my husband.  I hope everyone, no matter what their age, will aspire to outgrow their shoes.

My little one already helps me with my pet sitting business.  I’ve been bringing her along with me ever since she was born.  I notice now whenever we go to Trader Joe’s our friend Ms. Patty lets her scan our groceries.  I cannot think of another place where that would be acceptable, and it is another reason why I love both Ms. Patty and Trader Joe’s.  Instead of being just a passive observer she is made an active participant, and you can see how proud she is to be assisting.  I want my girl to know the value of money and that for most it takes hard work to earn it.  I learned from an early age that work for some was a joy but work for others could be incredibly difficult.  Not everyone is lucky enough to find their dream job but everyone requires money to live.  Even people “off the grid” need money for medical care or they might want to have money to travel.  I wish money did not seem to always equal success; for some it is just luck.  My father always taught me to work hard and do my best.  The secret to my father’s happiness is that he did not let his jobs define him.  He was always happy because he found a reason to be.  The American Christian evangelist Billy Graham said:

“The greatest legacy one can pass on to one’s children and grandchildren is not money or other material things accumulated in one’s life, but rather a legacy of character and faith.”

I hope I am showing my daughter every day to live with with character and faith … and to be happy.

One of our home’s greatest joys is our screened porch.  My mother-in-law was the one who had the idea and, after I designed it, she had it built for us about the second year into our marriage.  I get jealous of the four-leggeds, though, because they have more time to enjoy it than we do.  In this picture Elgin our Bengal and Cheyenne and Dakota our wolfies are taking in the fresh air.  You’ll notice the 6’4″ “baby” has taken one of the chairs.  Frankly, I cannot believe he can squeeze himself into it.  The first day of spring seemed like a good time to post this.  And it certainly is the best time of the year to enjoy the porch.  It has ceiling fans, lights, and my beloved lucite grape lamps hanging from the ceiling over a big glass and metal table that was once Burk’s grandmother’s.  It is wonderful to go out and not get bitten by mosquitos.  I also have what I call a “mamasan” that hangs in one corner.  It’s a wicker swing complete with book and drink holders — heaven!  Our little one uses her sidewalk chalks to color on the cement floor and we have enjoyed breakfasts, lunches and dinners out there.  I also have been known to savor some Cab Sav and a good cigar from the comfort of my “mamasan” once my beloveds were asleep.  Right now the scent of our Star Jasmine is thick in the still chilly air and I can hear the water trickling from the mouth of my little lion fountain just outside the French doors.  Spending 35 years of my life in an apartment and condo, I still savor the privilege of owning a home.  I realize many think it’s a given and that’s great, but I want our little girl to understand how fortunate we are.  I can paint, I can plant, I can remodel; it is a luxury.  The American actor Ashton Kutcher said:

“True luxury is being able to own your time – to be able to take a walk, sit on your porch, read the paper, not take the call, not be compelled by obligation.”

My daddy always said time could not be replaced.  Mindful of that, I try to savor the precious time we have at home as a family — often on the porch.

We only have one sofa in our den.  I try not to buy leather for animal ethics reasons but whatever it is that we have it has gone from smooth to pebbled.  The darn cats keep scratching it.  The onus is on me; I have not kept up with trimming their nails regularly.  So, reluctantly, we had a “salon” day.  I had the hubs help hold them while I methodically snipped their nails.  No one was happy.  Sometimes the claw’s sheath comes off but this time two nails pretty much came out of our 19-year-old Persian Maya in their entirety.  Poor thing!  The color drained from Burk’s face and he said he could not look.  I found them horrifying and fascinating at the same time.  Our little one still wants to be a vet so I waited to show her after she got home from school.  “Mama, that is FASCINATING!” she said as she examined them.  I felt horrible for letting their nails go too long.  “Look at the blood” she said with all the interest of a kid who doesn’t mind a little gore.  Then she immediately asked if she could bring them to show and tell.  “Sure” I said, wondering how well they were going to go over.  So I put them in a little plastic bag to ensure they wouldn’t get lost and off she went to school with her scientific discovery.  I kid you not I once got extra credit in college for bringing in a cat whisker that had been shed naturally.  We used it literally like an antenna and were able to get a low frequency sound with it combined with the aid of a couple of other things which I have now forgotten.  It turns out the claws were a big success.  Personally I thought it was a cool show and tell but then we’re huge animal lovers.  I do not believe Maya minded having her claws passed around on display; I think she was more relieved to be rid of them.  The American novelist Thomas Berger said, “The art and science of asking questions is the source of all knowledge.”  I have always asked questions.  I think it drove my folks crazy when I was little but that is how I learned.  Her father and I both share that love of discovery and it is a lifelong joy.  I am so pleased to see our little one has the same thirst for learning.  Her quest may very well have been started by a pair of cat’s claws.

I recall mentioning before initially not understanding why Feast Days were designated upon the death of a person, as opposed to their birth.  It was explained to me that it was celebrated then because that was the day they went home to be with the Lord.  Grief is such a morphing beast.  I believe almost everyone has dealt with loss in their lives; some far more than others.  On this day in 1998 part of me died forever.  It was the day I lost my father.  My mother and I were in complete shock and could not believe such a big, strong, vital man was gone at just 66 from a heart attack in his sleep.  I made sure my father had a full military burial, as was his due, after having served eight years in Korea as a sharpshooter in the United States Army.  I was told at his funeral that he never lost a man on night patrol.  A proud American Indian veteran, he always wore a flag pin on his lapel way before it was fashionable to do so.  I did not cry today; I just felt numb.  I also did not mention it to my husband or daughter, as there was no use in making them sad as well.  We rarely rent movies but tonight my daughter came across a movie she really wanted to see called “Kubo and the Two Strings.”  There would have been a time in my life when I would have found it incredibly sad.  My little one has already known the death of my mother and it pains me she experienced her loss at such a tender age.  But as she and I watched the movie together I realized the message was one of happiness.  I could not help but think how very fitting it was watching it on this day of all days.  We always carry our loved ones with us wherever we go and most of us are blessed to have memories of them.  And so, instead of mourning, we celebrate their lives and the precious time we had with them.  The American civil rights activist Rosa Parks said, “Memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others.”  I love knowing that all my father instilled in me, which was instilled in him by his grandmother, is now being instilled in my daughter.  The memories, works, and deeds live on.  Chi hullo li na billia chih.  I dedicate this to my daddy.

Just when I thought I could not love our new lights any more (scroll down and read “Lit” if you’re interested and missed it,) I have just discovered that I can control the whole house with voice activation that I already have for FREE through my iPhone!  So I can say, “‘Hey Siri, Good morning'” and all the lights in the house (that I have programmed) will come on.  This is why I love Apple so much.  And I am sure it is only the beginning.  I will eventually be able to have my coffee maker start at the same time and who knows what else.  I think in the near future we are looking at everything being automatic based upon predictable behaviors.  I know right now I do not have to manually search for movies on TV; Siri does it.  I already ask Siri what the weather is like rather than checking my app.  I have Siri enter my appointments.  Siri Googles things for me.  Siri sets timers when I’m cooking.  I have had Siri map directions when driving.  Siri makes calls for me and I never even look up my contacts anymore.  Siri has found the closest gas station, calculated currency conversions, and texted for me.  Siri has updated my Facebook posts, reviewed my emails, and plays my music.  The late American CEO of Apple Inc. Steve Jobs said:

“Technology is nothing.  What’s important is that you have a faith in people, that they’re basically good and smart, and if you give them tools, they’ll do wonderful things with them.”

I pray that the good and smart people of the world use technology to find cures for disease, empower the disabled, and improve the lives of people and animals all over the world.  And now I will say good night as I am headed to bed and turning off all the lights.  “Hey Siri …”