Tag Archives: good people

The Ladies of Oban

We lived in Scotland a while and went to Oban one day hoping to get to an island offshore. We missed the boat by moments and toured this lovely town, had lunch and found a knittery where local ladies knit fisherman’s sweaters for their husbands and others. I was lucky to find a dark pink hand-knit cardigan.

I’ve been saving it for years for special occasions and keep it safe in my closet. I’m wearing it now instead of a blanket. It makes me warm and cozy, oh, and rain-resistant. My husband doesn’t come back by sea, although we look out on one. He comes back by air and car. The wind determines his flight trajectory. but he’s driving up from another airport.

Yes, I’ve even written the shop a poem about it and the Fishermans’ sweater my mother knitted me when I was a kid. No-one in the family knows where it is. I’m wearing my pink cardigan from the Oban ladies now and am toasty warm. Thank you, all the knitters in my life from Scotland, New York and PDX-land. Dee

Eyes Wide Open

Yes, I got up early and before seven I peeked in to see the dog. I motioned her to come to me and she was looking at me but not seeing me because she was sound asleep, eyes wide open. Freaky.

There are thunderstorms going on but no rain yet, thunder is getting louder by the minute but she wants her beauty sleep!

As I wait for Zoe to come see me to go out then get fed, we said goodbye to a work friend. We’re glad to know him and he’s as old-school as me, writing a note thanking us for all we’ve done. He’s done more for us. He’s an author and I’ll be telling you about his new book. No, not selling it. This is not a monetized site.

Oh, it just started pouring rain. Zoe’s not going to like this but she should have awakened a half-hour ago. Darn. We’re supposed to have thunderstorms all day. She hates involuntary wetness but loves baths. By me, of course with our own system. My husband does 20 minutes of hard bathing. I do five minutes of dog massage. Guess who she loves? We’ll let you hang on that while I wake her and do the “two minute pee.” Here’s to our Best Friends, Dee

Saints and Sinners

I’ve been lucky to know a few saints. No, they were not awarded sainthood by the Holy Roman Catholic church but are saints to me.

One who comes to mind is the gentleman I met first day of college orientation who was somewhat bereft of a bed so slept on a blanket outside our dorm room. I found him the next morning. Though our talks and his writings I learned to know more about myself and what I was capable of being.

To my college advisor, with whom I must schedule lunch 1,000 miles away per our phone conversation last week, he gave me great advice and then got me out of a tough situation my senior year. We’ve kept in touch for nearly 40 years. He is a saint and perhaps his miracle is me as I learned that knowledge is power and that to trust is a miracle in itself.

My great aunt O taught me to love food and friends and enjoy being with folks who, partly thanks to my efforts, are covered by policies that prohibit discrimination in housing and employment due to perceived sexual orientation and now allow same sex couples to marry.

To my aunts L and J, for keeping a dictionary in the bathroom and making me learn a word every time I went in there. They also taught me how to cook, and to taste something they made without asking the ingredients. Yes, they introduced me to the splendiferousness of blue cheese.

To St. Francis of Assisi, I know he’s already a saint. He helped me in my volunteerism and advocacy for animals over two decades. I’ve yet to see Assisi but have seen his robe in Siena.

There are certain saints among us every day, including my friend Dan who passed recently. He took care of old people in nursing homes and was gifted.

Is there a saint in us? I’d like to prove that now rather than wait the the HRC to recognize me 500 years hence. Cheers, Dee