It’s Monday. All day. For another 13+ hours.
The last week or so, Jane Kenyon’s poem “Otherwise” has been my mantra. So much could have been otherwise.
Things were pretty quiet around here since the last entry. Oakley made a lovely recovery from the mild case of Lyme disease. We go back to the (more experienced) vet (who’s seen Oakley since puppyhood) this week for a recheck. My money is on that diagnosis because of how quickly he responded to the doxycyclene. Within a couple of hours after he took the first dose, he perked up, took nourishment, and wanted walks. I feel like I can exhale now. That could have been a huge otherwise.
Saturday was interesting, to say the least. A loud storm discharged a huge clap of thunder that shook the house hard enough to make one of the smoke alarms wail in protest. Granted that it was the alarm that goes off if someone sneezes while walking beneath it, but it was still disconcerting. It could have been otherwise, such as a bolt of lightning striking the roof. Thankfully, it wasn’t.
Later, as Oakley and I returned from a hasty walk between storms, one of the turkey buzzards that live in the trees down the road flew directly in front of my car. I slammed on the brakes as did the driver behind me. The bird lived to clean up road kill for another day; my windshield and both bumpers remained intact. A win-win situation for all resulted. That could have been an otherwise as well, and an incredibly messy one at that.
Despite a relatively late night, Oakley and I woke up with the sun. That could have been a huge otherwise, but it wasn’t. The sky had cleared. We had slept well, even after watching “Dark Angel” on PBS last night. Joanne Froggat, best known here in the states as Anna on “Downton Abbey” portrayed Victorian-era serial killer Mary Ann Cotton with chilling accuracy. I wisely cleansed my mental palate with many cake making videos before closing my eyes for the night. With the way I carry what I watch on TV into my dreams, that could have definitely been otherwise.
But it wasn’t.
We go about today, another ordinary Monday, and make notes of gratitude that it wasn’t otherwise.
The fact that I’m vertical is a miracle. In the wee smalls this morning, some of the local critter population decided to have a party in the yard directly in front of the driveway alarm. Hubby finally turned it off after the tenth time through of the opening bars of “Fur Elise.” Beethoven I have no quarrel with; just not at a** o’clock. I couldn’t get back to sleep.
What went through my head? Well, let’s try to meditate…focus on breath…focus on coolness going in and out of nostrils…no, not the theme from “Law and Order: Original Series…” no, just breathe–wait, is Oakley getting ready tho barf? No, he’s just giving himself a bath…ok, breathe. The breath draws in pure healing light…oh, why don’t I just get up? Oakley will want breakfast and it’s only a**:30. Too early. Ok, now I’m…
Jolted into irrevocable consciousness, I turned off the alarm on Hubby’s tablet. He was in the bathroom when it went off, then fell into snoring sleep after two breaths after he came back to bed.
I finally gave up just before six, made morning cups and Oakley’s egg, and have been getting on with it since.
Oakley scared me this morning. He left food in his bowl, which doesn’t happen very often. Then I realized that I had committed the unforgivable transgression of incorrectly layering the egg, pumpkin, and goat kefir in the bowl before mashing them together. An additional dollop of goat sauce (what it’s called around here) earned my way back into his favor.
Drinking green jasmine tea. It’s one of the few greens that I enjoy, as is gunpowder green. Gunpowder green has roasted notes and the wow factor of unfurling itself into the full leaves when the water hits it. Very cool to watch.
Hubby came home, so I’ve been cooking. Scrambled eggs yesterday; almond and coconut flour muffins this morning. Turkey cutlets with rosemary, but do I want to do a rosemary and mushroom or orange sauce? After three weeks of cooking for himself, he really appreciates my culinary efforts and likely doesn’t care. I’m leaning towards the orange sauce. I have some oranges that need to be used up.
On this day in 1536, Anne Boleyn was beheaded. A note of Tudor nerdiness for the day. Other than wearing black and watching the episode of “The Tudors” where she meets her fate, nothing planned.
So we go on to this week.
This morning is celebrated with grace and gratitude. The worst of the storms that hit Illinois passed to the south and west of us. We just had a lot of wind and moderately heavy downpours. No damage, just a 30-second power outage.
Today has intermittent clouds and sun, and the wind has downgraded to a roar from the sustained banshee wail that ripped across the sky for the better part of yesterday. The post storm tasks begin.
Pulling focus on the immediate concerns of clean up and housing for people who have been displaced are the first priorities. If you can help with either, that’s great. If you can’t, the best thing that you can donate is cash. That enables the NFPs handling rescue and recovery efforts to purchase exactly what they need for their efforts. Some years ago when the tsunami hit Thailand, one of the field offices for a relief organization received a box. When they opened it, they found several down-filled jackets. The donors meant well, even if they were a little off about the weather in Bangkok.
We also need to widen our focus and look at what climate change is doing to the planet. The tasks before us include educating ourselves and others about climate change; implementing small changes in our lives to help in efforts to put the brakes on it; and letting the elected officials know our feelings about environmental legislation.
I don’t have enough of a grounding in science to know if we’ve passed the tipping point. The best we can do is hope we haven’t and take the actions that we can.