Random Acts of "Kindness"

Archive for December, 2018

ALARM CLOCK

A week doesn’t go by before someone in our household mentions how unique, Robin, our dog is. We took her for training when she first joined our household. She is too smart. She listens when she wants to. We are the ones who became trained.

We have had many dogs before Robin. I tried counting them a while back — eleven or twelve, not counting Tammy’s puppies that only lived with us until they found new homes. We have had many different breeds — most of them mixed. Parentage undetermined. All of them were special.

We still have our large home. My husband would like to sell our house and move into a smaller place in the country. We still have a bedroom for guests. Or should I say that Robin has her own room. She prefers to sleep by herself. Many of our previous dogs slept with us, on our bed or on the couch on the first floor. If we are in the country she sleeps either on the couch or one of the chairs or under our bed. She likes her bed to have the covers in place, so she can rearrange them to her liking. If the beds are unmade, she remains on the floor. Our son said she is imitating us. We curl up under the covers when it is chilly.

Robin doesn’t wear a watch. But she tells time. She knows when it is time for her supper. Her tummy is probably empty. She knows when it is time for our son to come home from work. Alert, she maintains a post on the radiator, watching the outside sidewalk. She also knows when it is time for our supper. She pesters our son until he comes down stairs to eat.

She is not old. We got her as a rescue when she was a puppy. She is probably five or six years old. But she lives with senior citizens. Our son isn’t a senior but he isn’t a young kid either. She still runs fast, but she doesn’t run as long. Nor does she play as long as when she was young. She loves her new toys but she often pulls out one of her beloved, chewed relics.

She LOVES to go for walks. Check out the neighborhood. Squirrel hunt with our son. She will do her business in the back yard in the wee hours of the morning if necessary, but otherwise, she has to be out walking. She knows the time for her walks. Early in the morning, unless she went out in the wee hours, then she has TO SLEEP IN! She will come down with my husband in the nine or ten o’clock hour. She has to go out around noon, after she has her supper, after we have our supper, around eight or nine o’clock and then before midnight. Most of those times is not to do anything of purpose, just to check on the neighborhood.

By now you must be wondering why I’m writing about her. The main reason is that she made me laugh the other night. She pestered and pestered our son until he came downstairs. She didn’t have to go out. She wanted our son to have his cereal before bed. So she could have his milk.

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THE VOICES

I wrote this as an exercise for Creative Writing. We were supposed to write in a different style. My life had already changed considerably. I received more “help” than I ever dreamed possible. My “friends in high places” as I was beginning to call them, often woke me up at 4:00 AM. When my father was alive, he thought he could think better at that time of day. He even set his alarm so he would wake up. His sister Connie often got up that early. She had become another of “my friends in high places.” I thought getting up at seven was early enough. To make matters worse, an itch developed on both of my ankles. Scratching it felt better than eating chocolate or ice cream. Imagine if you will, three or four angels sitting around, conniving. The events are true. The dialogue is fiction. Or is it?

“She is awake. She should be up.”
“How are we going to get her out of bed? Nothing is working. She looks at the clock, rolls over, buries her head in the pillow and lays there.”
“It is after 6:00. Time is flying. She is wasting the day.”
“She ignores all the ideas we give her. Tells her brain to shut up, go back to sleep. Rolls over. Lays there.”
“I made her pillow lumpy. It didn’t work. She rolled over.”
“The dogs want to sleep too. I tried to get them to tell her they wanted to go out. They ignored me. They don’t want to get up this morning. ”
“It wouldn’t do any good anyway. He closed their bedroom door when he left.”
“If they barked or whined she would get up.”
“But they didn’t get up. They can sleep; she is the one who has to get up. How are we going to get her up.”
“I know! I know! I know how we can do it.”
“You’re so smart. How?”
“We can make her itch.”
“So we make her itch. She scratched, then she lies there.”
“That’s because you’re not doing it right.”
“What do you mean I’m not doing it right? There is not a right way and a wrong way to make someone itch.”
“Oh yes there is. I can make her itch so she gets up.” Oh yeah!”
“Yeah.”
“So smarty. How are you going to do it?”
“I’m going to start with just a little itch. She will scratch it, just a little bit, then roll over. I’ll wait a couple of minutes; let her think the itch is gone. Then I’ll make it itch just a little more. After she scratches, I’ll take the itch back for a couple of minutes. Give her a false sense of security.Then I’ll make her itch again. This time I’ll make a bigger spot itch, and maybe add another place. Spread it around a little bit. She won’t notice that the itch is growing. She still wants to sleep. This time I won’t wait as long after she scratches to make the itch come back. She will only be scratching her ankle. Now I’ll add her calf, just one spot, along with her ankle. I’ll make it feel really good to scratch, so she scratches longer, really gets into it. Now I’ll wait only a second before adding her foot to her ankle, along with her calf. Itch, Itch, Itch. She won’t be able to lie there. She will have to get up.”
“Go ahead and try it. What have we got to lose? She is just lying there. She will lie there all day. She doesn’t have a job, she doesn’t think she has to get up.”
“She never lays there all day. We have seen to that.”
“All right, so she won’t lay there all day. Just until 7:00.”
“She is awake. We woke her up. We gave those people something to say right outside her window at 5:00.”
“We made those tires stick to the road so all they did was spin and squeal. We made her listen to the traffic on the street. Made her think there was a lot of snow on the ground.”
“She didn’t get out of bed to look.”
“But we woke her up.”
“Now we have to get her on her feet. Out of bed. In motion.”
“The itch will do it.”
“You think so.”
“I know so!”
“Try it. What have we got to lose?”
“Told you so. Told you so. The itch did it. Not even 15 minutes. She is up. She is dressed. She is in motion.”
“Did you watch carefully? Take notes. So we can do it again tomorrow.”

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DEBATE

This morning I had to laugh when I opened the bible to Job 40:25 “Can you lead about Leviathan with a hook.” I DON’T like opening the bible to Job. It usually is not good. This chapter Job had been arguing with God and God was responding with questions for Job to answer. I was reminded that I had been questioning the need for me to continue to write. Yesterday I opened a cookbook that I put together. It not only contain recipes that I make often, but verses of songs and poems that are meaningful to me. First I opened to a poem that was given to me when I sent To Pap, With Love to a publisher. “Never forget — Your presence is a gift to the world.” Next I opened to the Song THE SUMMONS. “Will you come and follow me if I but call your name.”

Okay, I understand. I’m being reminded to write. BUT I NEED SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT! It is not like I’m ignored by spirit — on the contrary — my life IS ALWAYS interesting. But I’ve grown accustomed to receiving help. I don’t get into the car without asking for “help” with my driving. As a matter of fact I’m usually asking for “help” many times during the day. It’s not that it is commonplace, except for me it probably is and I don’t note all the occasions.

Since the concept of my rambles is interaction with spirit I try to keep that the theme of my rambles.Since we spent the summer and part of the Fall in the country, I’m still trying to get caught up. No writing ideas, and I need three ramblers for the next three weeks. So I argue and receive “directions.”

I was reminded that many years ago I wrote The Voice. I was still learning the ways that spirit interacts with my life. Taking a writing class, our instructor asked us to write something different. I did, I LOVED IT and he wasn’t impressed. This mornings events reminded me.

Next week — for your enjoyment I will republish THE VOICES. It is in my book Journey With Me.

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SLEEP

When I was young, I seldom had trouble sleeping. As a matter of fact, I usually was able to sleep for 8 hours or more. Having children didn’t change my ability to sleep. I usually slept soundly, through the sounds of the city — fire engines, ambulances, police cars. I woke if my children needed me, but other than that, I slept on.

That is until my father was affected by Alzheimer’s disease. I became a light sleeper, waking at sounds in the household. I was still able to sleep through the street noise. Of course, working — needing to be on the road at 7:00 AM changed my ability to sleep late. Normal time to wake in the morning became 6.

Robin doesn’t realize that she is a dog. She thinks she is people — like us. We get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. She should be able to do the same. Sadly she has gotten into the habit of needing to go out almost every night. Of course we do too. I won’t write down how many times a night we get up. Robin needed to go out at 3:30 in the morning. She woke me up — I am under orders to wake my husband. He can go back to sleep. I have problems. And she did all of her business, no messing around. She has gotten older — she wanted to go back to sleep. BUT I DIDN’T.

I was still awake at 4:00. My right hamstring was hurting. I must have stressed it during the night. I tried the various rubs and pills I take to help me sleep. Next it was my left ankle itching. I tried various creams without success. It continued to itch. I took a couple of Motrin. It was 4:44 and I was still awake.

I laid with eyes closed on the bed and tried deep breathing. Hamstring felt better, ankle still itched. Then the corner of my left eye began itching. What do you do when an eye is itching? QUESTIONS! WHY? What is going on? Why can’t I go back to sleep?

Finally I was able to fall back to sleep. I stayed in bed until 7, an hour later than usual.

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MEMORY

I worry about me sometimes. I especially worry when I don’t remember where I put something or when I forget when it comes to money — checkbook, paying bills. I don’t get upset when I arrive in the kitchen or the pantry and forget why I felt I needed to get something. Usually if I relax and think for a minute, I’ll remember what I needed.

I’ve told myself that I need to start writing notes. Sometimes I remember and sometimes it works — especially at the camper. When we leave in the Fall and I’ve moved stuff — it is helpful to find a note telling me where the item is.

The forecast for the weather for the week after Thanksgiving was interesting. Two days in the 40’s, then the temperature drops below freezing, with snow. Time to put up the lights outside.

Finding the boxes that hold the decorations was easy. Our son brought them up from the basement for me. Taking off the lid contained the lights and the garlands. EXCEPT — I didn’t recognize the lights. I saw large bulb, multicolored lights — FOUR (4) boxes. QUESTION: Where did they come from? I didn’t remember buying them but I knew neither our son or my husband would have. There they were.

We use tiny cascading lights hanging on the porch. I found three bunches. They also were multicolored. I didn’t remember them either. We usually have either white or blue. I looked for a note reminding me of the lights in the box. I didn’t find one.

I have to admit that my notes to myself are not very complete. Either I forget to write things down or decide it is not important enough to remember. Maybe I thought that I would remember. Sadly, memory is marvelous — it must be full because it is VERY choosy about it keeps.

Recently our local public broadcasting station had a pledge drive to raise money. One of the programs that was included was music of the 60’s. It surprised me that not only did I recognize the name of the singer whose voice I heard, but just hearing the first notes of the song — I knew what the song was. Of course the 60’2 — it was my music and I was YOUNG! My memory bank was full and overflowing.

I LIKE the multicolored lights on the porch. Getting new strands to replace those hanging this year would probably be a good idea. Maybe that’s why we have 4 boxes of multicolored large bulbs that I don’t remember. I wonder what we were going to do with them?

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