Cowboy here. Our house is in holiday chaos as it is every year at this time, my wife busy decorating, hunting for presents she’s sure Santa has already bought and hid. Hiding places are getting harder to find. The imp is easily distracted by chocolate treats I stashed in the usual hiding places. Eating them hasn’t ruined her appetite at all; Glory’s doing the cooking/baking.
The ladies have had a few hard months now that Max’s gone. We’ve been back and forth to Gulfport to settle some details. We invited them to stay here but they’ll go home after the New Year.
Sar has slowly come back to life after Max’s passing. She’s kept busy creating art, making some outstanding pieces, might do an exhibition in the spring. Glory’s energies result in culinary wonders. Vi is the organizer – from the house to managing the marketing of Sar’s art work. Vi organized the children’s Christmas party for the neighborhood, dragged David over to be Santa, made the rest of us run around fulfilling her demands, would have made a fine officer if she wasn’t so tiny. Don’t let her know I said that.
There’s been a lot less mischief lately but never fear, there’s still a bit to go around. Despite the weather, Sar has been doing plenty of tree climbing. It boggles the mind to watch that woman scamper up a tree. Bundled up she can sit on a high branch far too long to make me comfortable. A bit of a breeze has me out there pulling her down before pneumonia slips in. Bull – who has yet to move out – has braved the imp’s temper on occasion, pulling her down unceremoniously, hauling her over his shoulder while she yells a bunch of ugly words she knows. He’s not immune to being kicked either when she’s mad. He takes it all in stride, slipping a piece of chocolate out of his pocket to appease her. That usually stops the fuss for a bit. Come to think of it I think all of us males fill our pockets with chocolate for those just-in-case moments.
No snow so far this year so no anatomically correct snow people either. That’s a blessing in itself. I think the neighborhood might be a bit disappointed. My money’s on the imp; Sar’s bound to find a way to make up for that.
The monster dog we’ve adopted has filled out – a sweet personality for an animal that was bred to ride the Roman chariots and go to war. Our smallest cat Pipsqueak has attached itself to the dog. Apparently it’s fearless of a muzzle that could gulp it down in one bite. Another one of our cats, Miss Emmy, has for some reason developed an extra thick coat of fur. The animal sheds like crazy and leaves its fur everywhere. I’m tempted to shave the beast.
Our garage is overloaded with Twinkies. By now you know the company that makes these god-awful treats went bankrupt. Sar must have bought every one of them that was available in western Washington. Friends from all over the country – plus some from overseas – have been sending boxes of Twinkies wherever they are. I told the imp some other company would start making them but she’s determined to eat the originals for as long as possible. Glory made up a batch just to see if she could match the recipe. Glory’s version was outstanding so at least we have a backup when we run out of the originals. According to Sar, that’ll be a dark day.
Happy Christmas, Happy Chanukkah, Happy New Year. As always, this old warrior prays for a more peaceful year - from our family to you and yours.
Cowboy
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
Sweet Peace
My Max died.
I can barely write the words it’s so darn painful.
This is the man who didn’t blink when Glory dragged me to their basement apartment when I was 10 and cold and hungry and had nowhere to sleep. This is the man who took one look at a skinny smart-mouthed girl and pronounced that I was now a part of his family. This is the man who called me his girl child and was more than a father to me – a friend and mentor. This is the man who loved me when I had no idea that there was such a thing as love.
In his last days he slept a lot. We made up a bed for him on the back deck so he could see the ocean, listen to the tide and feel the ocean breezes. Tucked him in comforters and quilts so he wouldn’t take a chill. We slept out there with him – Glory, Vi, me, Cowboy, Bull, David and the cats. Sweetie the Neo slept with his head on Max’s bed, the cats near his chest. We told him how much we loved him; he knew that already and when he could no longer speak, we told him we knew how much he loved us. I whispered it was okay if he wanted to go; we would understand. We made sure he was pain free and finally, in the middle of the afternoon a couple of weeks ago, he slipped into a coma and left us.
I was holding his hand when he took his last breath.
Vi keeps everything inside; Glory fell apart. I needed to be strong for all of us and I was until the funeral home folks came for him. It’s so darn hard to say goodbye.
Max was cremated at his request. We flew to New Orleans to hold a memorial for him. Folks came in from Chicago and Gulfport. It was an old-fashioned New Orleans wake with old jazz musicians he knew playing “Saints” as we walked through the French Quarter to the church. Afterwards we hosted a reception at Antoine’s swapping Max stories – his youth, his “stable of working girls” in New Orleans and Chicago, his generous heart – making Thanksgiving, Christmas and other special days a free banquet for the street folks.
Although Max grew up in Kingston, Jamaica, he was actually born in Gulfport, Mississippi and that’s where his ashes were scattered. Glory and Vi will probably return to their home in Gulfport but for the time being, they’ll stay with us in Western Washington. Cowboy will help settle their legal issues; Max made sure his ladies would live comfortably after he was gone.
I’m not sure how we’ll all get on without him. He was such a strong presence in our lives.
Glory and Vi and I danced under the last full moon in his honor. Cowboy stayed inside; left us to do what we had to do to ease our hearts. Later, I slept in my lover’s arms grateful for his strength and support. Max was his friend as well.
Max always said “Life be short; you best be ‘preciating it for all it be worth.”
Sweet peace, Max.
~Sar~
I can barely write the words it’s so darn painful.
This is the man who didn’t blink when Glory dragged me to their basement apartment when I was 10 and cold and hungry and had nowhere to sleep. This is the man who took one look at a skinny smart-mouthed girl and pronounced that I was now a part of his family. This is the man who called me his girl child and was more than a father to me – a friend and mentor. This is the man who loved me when I had no idea that there was such a thing as love.
In his last days he slept a lot. We made up a bed for him on the back deck so he could see the ocean, listen to the tide and feel the ocean breezes. Tucked him in comforters and quilts so he wouldn’t take a chill. We slept out there with him – Glory, Vi, me, Cowboy, Bull, David and the cats. Sweetie the Neo slept with his head on Max’s bed, the cats near his chest. We told him how much we loved him; he knew that already and when he could no longer speak, we told him we knew how much he loved us. I whispered it was okay if he wanted to go; we would understand. We made sure he was pain free and finally, in the middle of the afternoon a couple of weeks ago, he slipped into a coma and left us.
I was holding his hand when he took his last breath.
Vi keeps everything inside; Glory fell apart. I needed to be strong for all of us and I was until the funeral home folks came for him. It’s so darn hard to say goodbye.
Max was cremated at his request. We flew to New Orleans to hold a memorial for him. Folks came in from Chicago and Gulfport. It was an old-fashioned New Orleans wake with old jazz musicians he knew playing “Saints” as we walked through the French Quarter to the church. Afterwards we hosted a reception at Antoine’s swapping Max stories – his youth, his “stable of working girls” in New Orleans and Chicago, his generous heart – making Thanksgiving, Christmas and other special days a free banquet for the street folks.
Although Max grew up in Kingston, Jamaica, he was actually born in Gulfport, Mississippi and that’s where his ashes were scattered. Glory and Vi will probably return to their home in Gulfport but for the time being, they’ll stay with us in Western Washington. Cowboy will help settle their legal issues; Max made sure his ladies would live comfortably after he was gone.
I’m not sure how we’ll all get on without him. He was such a strong presence in our lives.
Glory and Vi and I danced under the last full moon in his honor. Cowboy stayed inside; left us to do what we had to do to ease our hearts. Later, I slept in my lover’s arms grateful for his strength and support. Max was his friend as well.
Max always said “Life be short; you best be ‘preciating it for all it be worth.”
Sweet peace, Max.
~Sar~
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Catching Up
We're back at the beach again. Went home for a few weeks to take care of things but Max feels better when the ocean breezes come through the windows.
My Max is dying. It's hard to see him this way; he's dropped about 30 lbs – chemo and a bunch of drugs to stave the pain, others to stop the side effects that drugs do to a human body. Mentally, he's everything Max has always been – strong, supportive, loving and determined to ensure that Glory & Vi will live comfortably when he's gone. Cowboy and I will make sure that happens as well.
We're eating large, of course. Glory makes all the foods Max loves – anything to entice him to eat; his appetite is shot. We've had a few visits all the way out here on the West coast from Max's New Orleans & Mississippi friends. The mail, email and texts come daily and it does our hearts good to know Max's friends care that much about him. Two of our cats – Pipsqueak and Henry Canuck (also known as Mr. Chunky) sleep on Max's bed with him, follow him as he moves around the house.
Bull & David are back from DC. Bull's recuperation and rehab is on the upswing; we're optimistic he'll be even stronger in a few more months of therapy. He's back to eating for 6 and still on the thin side. I told the giant squid we need to start raising cattle, buy a chicken farm and a few dairy cows if that boy doesn't get married and move out. I keep a lot of lasagna in the freezer ready to nuke in case we have other company. That way, I can get him partially full before dinner so the rest of us have a chance at eating a meal. (He has a BAD habit of sneaking food to Sweetie under the table. Considering the animal is pushing 160 lbs, it's amazing the dog can fit under the table without constantly bumping its head.)
Easter and Passover were in the same week this year; we had a seder as well as sunrise services on the beach for Easter. Glory helped me with the cooking; she was beside herself trying out recipes new to her and sampling everything. Vi, who watches her figure, sneaked a bunch of foods she doesn't usually eat and Max found his appetite for a few days. I think it's the ocean air that does that. Sweetie, the Neo thought the guests were there for his benefit and graciously accepted all the food they shared with him from their plates. The animal howled when the prayers were said before the meals. I'm not sure if he was praying along with the rabbi & priest or if he was saying let's get on with it and eat.
Have I ever mentioned that the giant squid is O-L-D? There's no doubt he's slowing down. It took him about 6 minutes to catch me when I decided to dance naked under that gorgeous full moon we had recently; usually it only takes him about 2.5 minutes. My mistake was running into the water to evade him; he's a former SEAL – swimming is part of his DNA. He might have been an Orca in a previous life… or a water buffalo… or a stubborn warthog… or…. Oh! I hear ice cream and twinkies happening.
~Sar~
My Max is dying. It's hard to see him this way; he's dropped about 30 lbs – chemo and a bunch of drugs to stave the pain, others to stop the side effects that drugs do to a human body. Mentally, he's everything Max has always been – strong, supportive, loving and determined to ensure that Glory & Vi will live comfortably when he's gone. Cowboy and I will make sure that happens as well.
We're eating large, of course. Glory makes all the foods Max loves – anything to entice him to eat; his appetite is shot. We've had a few visits all the way out here on the West coast from Max's New Orleans & Mississippi friends. The mail, email and texts come daily and it does our hearts good to know Max's friends care that much about him. Two of our cats – Pipsqueak and Henry Canuck (also known as Mr. Chunky) sleep on Max's bed with him, follow him as he moves around the house.
Bull & David are back from DC. Bull's recuperation and rehab is on the upswing; we're optimistic he'll be even stronger in a few more months of therapy. He's back to eating for 6 and still on the thin side. I told the giant squid we need to start raising cattle, buy a chicken farm and a few dairy cows if that boy doesn't get married and move out. I keep a lot of lasagna in the freezer ready to nuke in case we have other company. That way, I can get him partially full before dinner so the rest of us have a chance at eating a meal. (He has a BAD habit of sneaking food to Sweetie under the table. Considering the animal is pushing 160 lbs, it's amazing the dog can fit under the table without constantly bumping its head.)
Easter and Passover were in the same week this year; we had a seder as well as sunrise services on the beach for Easter. Glory helped me with the cooking; she was beside herself trying out recipes new to her and sampling everything. Vi, who watches her figure, sneaked a bunch of foods she doesn't usually eat and Max found his appetite for a few days. I think it's the ocean air that does that. Sweetie, the Neo thought the guests were there for his benefit and graciously accepted all the food they shared with him from their plates. The animal howled when the prayers were said before the meals. I'm not sure if he was praying along with the rabbi & priest or if he was saying let's get on with it and eat.
Have I ever mentioned that the giant squid is O-L-D? There's no doubt he's slowing down. It took him about 6 minutes to catch me when I decided to dance naked under that gorgeous full moon we had recently; usually it only takes him about 2.5 minutes. My mistake was running into the water to evade him; he's a former SEAL – swimming is part of his DNA. He might have been an Orca in a previous life… or a water buffalo… or a stubborn warthog… or…. Oh! I hear ice cream and twinkies happening.
~Sar~
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
Hogwash, Balderdash & Shitake Mushrooms!
I yelled at God today. I do that from time to time. Makes me feel like I'm being heard above all the other folks yelling. I yell when things happen that shouldn't happen. I yell when it's obvious someone is going through a hell that wasn't necessary. When I'm feeling charitable toward God I ask that someone I know comes home from deployment alive, in one piece and emotionally able to live a normal life. Sometimes I ask that someone be able to recuperate from an illness, helacious disease and if that's not possible, to allow that person to go peacefully. My yelling hasn't done a lot of good as far as I can tell but sometimes that's the only I can do – a prayer, a positive healing thought, maybe just wishful thinking that got loud and vocal and yes, sometimes I curse. The giant squid doesn't say much when I start yelling. He's a good Catholic – goes to mass regularly. Tells me he always asks God to watch out for me; lights a candle to that saint who's supposed to be responsible for hopeless souls. I know he's thinking of me when he does that but he never says so. I'm not really hopeless, just cynical.
I'm not hyped up about organized religion; it's enough that I believe there's a "something" greater than I am. Two of my dearest friends are believers – one a Buddhist, the other a rabbinical scholar. When the three of us get together, we generally spend a lot of energy eating fried Twinkies and drinking root beer floats. We curse politicians and pedophiles, toast warriors and strong women and usually fall asleep on the deck coming down from a sugar high. Cowboy says I'm a bad influence on them. If he thinks that's bad, I'm not letting him know what I used to do to nuns when I was a grade school kid. If there's another life after this one, I'd like to skip childhood, thank you very much.
My Bull is recuperating nicely. I make him run with me and I ride his back when he does pushups. He's still getting physical therapy for his shoulders and I don't know what else but every day he looks more like his old self. He's off to DC in a few weeks for a follow-up visit with the docs that saved his life. David will go with him; give both of them a chance to spend some time without me badgering them. He misses the Corps; he misses his unit and he misses fighting for his country. I keep telling him he's done more than most, time to do other things, get back to civilian life. I might have to break down and invite a bunch of pretty ladies over to keep him occupied. Hope they can cook… he's back to eating like it was going out of style.
Max had a "port" inserted into his clavicle; he's decided to go through chemo. I'm hoping it will relieve some pain and give him more time on earth. We're going to be totally insane when the time comes to say goodbye.
I agreed to rescue a Neapolitan Mastiff. His name is Sweetie and he's a gigantic monster of a dog that's been neglected. He had to be anesthetized to cut his nails; they were extra long and horribly deformed. Had his teeth cleaned at the same time as well as his ears irrigated. Neos have lots of wrinkles and a really pugnacious face but the critter lives up to his name – extraordinarily sweet. The cats adore him and groom him; he eats anything including my t-shirts. He might be part goat… I made mac & cheese for the first time in a long time; he slurped it up and looked for more. It won't be too much longer before he's back to fighting weight. Slowly but surely the animal is learning to follow commands and like my Rott, SweetPea used to do, is sleeping outside the bedroom door. Yesterday, the giant squid raised his voice…. yelling that I'd be sleeping on my belly if I went running in the rain. Tsk. Sweetie let him know that wasn't something he wanted to hear. I noticed the squid waited until we were behind closed doors to give me a swat. I yelled for Sweetie and the animal charged into the bedroom and aimed a "stink-eye" in the squid's direction, showed a little teeth, too.
I laughed. It made me feel good.
The giant squid's still mumbling about that.
~Sar~
I'm not hyped up about organized religion; it's enough that I believe there's a "something" greater than I am. Two of my dearest friends are believers – one a Buddhist, the other a rabbinical scholar. When the three of us get together, we generally spend a lot of energy eating fried Twinkies and drinking root beer floats. We curse politicians and pedophiles, toast warriors and strong women and usually fall asleep on the deck coming down from a sugar high. Cowboy says I'm a bad influence on them. If he thinks that's bad, I'm not letting him know what I used to do to nuns when I was a grade school kid. If there's another life after this one, I'd like to skip childhood, thank you very much.
My Bull is recuperating nicely. I make him run with me and I ride his back when he does pushups. He's still getting physical therapy for his shoulders and I don't know what else but every day he looks more like his old self. He's off to DC in a few weeks for a follow-up visit with the docs that saved his life. David will go with him; give both of them a chance to spend some time without me badgering them. He misses the Corps; he misses his unit and he misses fighting for his country. I keep telling him he's done more than most, time to do other things, get back to civilian life. I might have to break down and invite a bunch of pretty ladies over to keep him occupied. Hope they can cook… he's back to eating like it was going out of style.
Max had a "port" inserted into his clavicle; he's decided to go through chemo. I'm hoping it will relieve some pain and give him more time on earth. We're going to be totally insane when the time comes to say goodbye.
I agreed to rescue a Neapolitan Mastiff. His name is Sweetie and he's a gigantic monster of a dog that's been neglected. He had to be anesthetized to cut his nails; they were extra long and horribly deformed. Had his teeth cleaned at the same time as well as his ears irrigated. Neos have lots of wrinkles and a really pugnacious face but the critter lives up to his name – extraordinarily sweet. The cats adore him and groom him; he eats anything including my t-shirts. He might be part goat… I made mac & cheese for the first time in a long time; he slurped it up and looked for more. It won't be too much longer before he's back to fighting weight. Slowly but surely the animal is learning to follow commands and like my Rott, SweetPea used to do, is sleeping outside the bedroom door. Yesterday, the giant squid raised his voice…. yelling that I'd be sleeping on my belly if I went running in the rain. Tsk. Sweetie let him know that wasn't something he wanted to hear. I noticed the squid waited until we were behind closed doors to give me a swat. I yelled for Sweetie and the animal charged into the bedroom and aimed a "stink-eye" in the squid's direction, showed a little teeth, too.
I laughed. It made me feel good.
The giant squid's still mumbling about that.
~Sar~
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Life
Cowboy here. Finally got around to checking email, discovered a bunch from those of you who follow this blog. Didn't realize how long it's been since 1 of us posted.
Ok, life happens to all of us. Generally that's a good thing. Lately, not so much for us. In the past year, we've lost 4 dogs who were family members, devoted pets, mostly Sar's companions. They lived the good life and passed on. Sar still looks for them in the morning, they always rushed in the bedroom when I left, then she remembers they're gone. Takes a few minutes to get going after that. Got a call about a neo mastiff in need of rescue, hoping to get mia bambina to take a look at it, let nature take its course.
Bull is up and around, due mainly to my wife's nursing. Sar's no Florence Nightingale. More like a rogue cop badgering a witness, insists on long walks, short runs, damn hard exercise. Makes the man laugh, cry, get whatever's bugging him off his chest. The imp throws food at him, lasagna, apple strudel, slices of blueberry pie. If Bull's alert, paying attention, he catches the food, eats it. Otherwise he ends up with food all over his tshirts. Grateful she saves the peach concoctions for me. Sometimes she "tags" him, runs. Bull gives chase, around the house, up/down stairs, along the beachfront. The man gets worn out but I notice he's regaining muscle. Then he eats enough to feed a crowd.
Spent a week in London, got back, went home to the mainland. Spent a day with our young friend Patrick, his mother. The boy is about as tall as Sar, doing well in school, picking up a bit of an English accent, turning into a fine young man, miss him in our daily lives. Out at the beach again. My wife loves the beach in winter, came back out here to spend a bit more time. Hard to see the imp running on the beach without the dogs.
About life: Max, Glory, Vi went home after Christmas. Glory called last week. Max was complaining about back pain; his ladies dragged him to a doctor. Bunch of tests later, discovered a tumor on his pancreas; it's metastasized. Flew down to Gulfport, packed the 3 of them up, brought them back here. Max has a biopsy next week; man looks fit as a fiddle, a bit thinner than a few weeks ago. What we know so far is that the medics have given him 6 months. More than that, we won't know until after the biopsy. Max is in his mid-70s, the ladies about 10-12 years younger. Both of us want him here, family surrounding him. His ladies are stoic for now; damn sure they'll fall apart if/when things get worse. Got Navy medics taking care of him. Might need a bit of help later for the ladies, Sar as well. When life gets hard, some folks eat. Sar loses appetite. There are times I think a good hard spanking will cure whatever ails her; unfortunately, that's not always true. In the near future, Sar's friend Alli will fly in, stay awhile. Alli has always been close to Sar's family, lived with them off and on when her own life was a bit rough.
Sar's got about a dozen stories started. Don't know when she'll get around to finishing them. Been hoping writing will take her mind off other things. I've read a few; would like to know what happens next.
Last piece of news for now – hope it gives you a chuckle. The Hostess Company declared bankruptcy a few days ago. This is the company that makes Twinkies. As soon as my wife heard the news, she went out, bought every Twinkie she could find, stored them in the garage – crates full. Waiting for her to go online, order more.
Cowboy
Ok, life happens to all of us. Generally that's a good thing. Lately, not so much for us. In the past year, we've lost 4 dogs who were family members, devoted pets, mostly Sar's companions. They lived the good life and passed on. Sar still looks for them in the morning, they always rushed in the bedroom when I left, then she remembers they're gone. Takes a few minutes to get going after that. Got a call about a neo mastiff in need of rescue, hoping to get mia bambina to take a look at it, let nature take its course.
Bull is up and around, due mainly to my wife's nursing. Sar's no Florence Nightingale. More like a rogue cop badgering a witness, insists on long walks, short runs, damn hard exercise. Makes the man laugh, cry, get whatever's bugging him off his chest. The imp throws food at him, lasagna, apple strudel, slices of blueberry pie. If Bull's alert, paying attention, he catches the food, eats it. Otherwise he ends up with food all over his tshirts. Grateful she saves the peach concoctions for me. Sometimes she "tags" him, runs. Bull gives chase, around the house, up/down stairs, along the beachfront. The man gets worn out but I notice he's regaining muscle. Then he eats enough to feed a crowd.
Spent a week in London, got back, went home to the mainland. Spent a day with our young friend Patrick, his mother. The boy is about as tall as Sar, doing well in school, picking up a bit of an English accent, turning into a fine young man, miss him in our daily lives. Out at the beach again. My wife loves the beach in winter, came back out here to spend a bit more time. Hard to see the imp running on the beach without the dogs.
About life: Max, Glory, Vi went home after Christmas. Glory called last week. Max was complaining about back pain; his ladies dragged him to a doctor. Bunch of tests later, discovered a tumor on his pancreas; it's metastasized. Flew down to Gulfport, packed the 3 of them up, brought them back here. Max has a biopsy next week; man looks fit as a fiddle, a bit thinner than a few weeks ago. What we know so far is that the medics have given him 6 months. More than that, we won't know until after the biopsy. Max is in his mid-70s, the ladies about 10-12 years younger. Both of us want him here, family surrounding him. His ladies are stoic for now; damn sure they'll fall apart if/when things get worse. Got Navy medics taking care of him. Might need a bit of help later for the ladies, Sar as well. When life gets hard, some folks eat. Sar loses appetite. There are times I think a good hard spanking will cure whatever ails her; unfortunately, that's not always true. In the near future, Sar's friend Alli will fly in, stay awhile. Alli has always been close to Sar's family, lived with them off and on when her own life was a bit rough.
Sar's got about a dozen stories started. Don't know when she'll get around to finishing them. Been hoping writing will take her mind off other things. I've read a few; would like to know what happens next.
Last piece of news for now – hope it gives you a chuckle. The Hostess Company declared bankruptcy a few days ago. This is the company that makes Twinkies. As soon as my wife heard the news, she went out, bought every Twinkie she could find, stored them in the garage – crates full. Waiting for her to go online, order more.
Cowboy
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