The ways we adapt...

Charlie (aka Charles the Last) inspecting our VT screens for more holes.

For thirteen (or so) years, I've been making subtle adaptations in my life to account for the presence of another being. Today I said goodbye to him and wandered through the rest of the day tearfully realizing how our life changed in one day.

I adopted a cat for my dog, Jericho, from The Little Guild of St. Francis years ago. I was working full-time during the day and in fire school most nights and Jericho was lonely. I wasn't ready for a second dog so when the photo of an adorable black and white cat with a Charlie Chaplin mustache came across my desk in the adoption column of the newspaper, I called. I was not, am not, never was, and never will be a cat person. Unfortunately I didn't realize what it meant to be a cat owner back then and I somewhat blindly visited him, found him to be stand-offish enough to not crowd me but cute enough to make me want him. I adopted him. Charlie came into my life.

I can't try to pretend that our life together was full of playful bouts with yarn balls or cuddling under the covers. It was more like hair balls and fleeting glimpses with the occasional 10 second petting. By the time I got him, he had been traumatized (I think) into believing that if he kept his distance, life would be good. So, for 13 years, he pretty much kept his distance. Occasionally he would surprise me by walking right up to me while I was sitting or lying down (never while I was standing) and plowing his head into me for some rubbing but he made it clear that affection was only to be displayed on his terms. That was okay - we figured each other out.

He moved with me from Connecticut to Maryland to Vermont to Massachusetts and adapted (sometimes not so readily) to every situation and housing arrangement. His favorite layover in our life together was in a mountainside house with an 89 year old woman who, as luck would have it, ADORED him and could actually pet him for longer than a few seconds. I think he knew she couldn't/wouldn't chase him.

When Charlie first came home with me, he and Jericho took a few weeks to get used to each other. It might have taken less time but I was nervous about taking down the divide between them - I wasn't sure if Jericho would eat him. It took me about an hour to realize that adding a cat to a dog-occupied house meant making adjustments. The first adjustment came when I realized that in every house that I would EVER live in with him, I would have to create a space for Charlie's food to be kept out of reach from my ever-ravenous lab mix, Jericho. Shortly thereafter I realized that labs also confuse litter box deposits with tasty treats and I would have to cordon off access to that snack bar as well. The second adjustment was that I realized that I didn't need to purchase a cat bed, I just needed to leave a favorite sweater or blanket flat (ish) somewhere and Charlie would make it into a nest... and Jericho would join him. They quickly became dear friends. The third adjustment came when Charlie began ambushing me every morning as I went to let Jericho out. He would hide somewhere between the bedroom door and the back door and when I passed by he would bolt out and jump up and tag me on the rear end with both front paws and then bolt away. I adjusted by wearing a bathrobe to protect my naked tush.

Over the years I have made other logistical adjustments that I didn't really spend much time thinking about because they just subtly became a way of life. Today, after saying goodbye for the last time to Charles the Last (as my husband dubbed him many years ago), I was faced with the first wave of realizing that I will now begin unraveling all of those cat habits I've developed been taught over the years.

Here is the list of things that come to mind that are no longer necessary:

• Turning on lights before walking through the house in the dark in order to avoid finding hair balls with bare feet.
• Locating the dog food bowl 8+ feet from the water bowl to avoid the weird habit of the cat dropping kibble into the water bowl to soak.
• Rushing to the cat treat bag first thing in the morning before feeding or letting the dog out so that the yowls don't wake up everyone else in the house. Delivery of "Shut up pills", as we dubbed them in recent years, was an essential task of the first riser. We even got to the point of keeping them upstairs!
• Brushing bits of cat litter off of places like the couch (something I NEVER got used to).
• Providing sole access for him to the sun room which in recent years has become "The cat's room" - yep, he dominated over 10% of the square footage of our house by controlling that room.
• Explaining to people that yes, we do have a cat but no, it's not likely that you'll ever see him.
• Closing doors to specific parts of the house that he has used as a litter box at one point or another.
• Opening doors to specific parts of the house so that his access to his actual litter box is completely unrestricted.
• Never leaving laundry baskets (Full or empty. Clean or dirty.), boxes, drawers or other items that resemble a litter box available when his actual box might not be close enough for his liking.
• Displaying fresh flowers in places so high that I forget they are there just so Charlie can't jump up and eat and/or knock over the display.
• Avoiding buying indoor plants for same reasons as above.
• Closing all exterior access points like doors and windows because he's an indoor cat. (There was the one time that he fell out of a window in Maryland the night before I moved to Vermont but after skulking in the shadows for an hour, he pressed himself against the door and begged to be let back in.)
• Putting all uncovered but not-yet-cool-enough-to-refrigerate food into the microwave so that counter top snacking wasn't available... and hoping you remember it's there before it goes bad.
• Declining visits from people with small, uncontrollable, loud children, or dogs because they stressed Charlie to the point that he would hide in his litter box until they were long gone.

It's hard losing a four legged member of the family but he quite suddenly had reached a point where it was inevitable. I was so upset with him for suddenly habitually pooping everywhere but his litter box that we took him to the vet last week and she tried some antibiotics which seemed to help. Then suddenly he stopped eating, walking, or really doing much and after another visit to the vet, we learned that he either had a bowel disease or intestinal cancer - either way it meant lots of medications and vet visits - both of which stressed him to the point of panic. We couldn't do that to him.

So I took him in my arms and confessed my sins as an ignorant cat owner, accepted the fact that I had had no idea what I was doing and that he had taught me everything about owning a cat (which I realize probably doesn't come in handy with ANY other cat), reminded him over and over that although we didn't like some of his feline habits, we love him and will miss him, and told him that his long-lost buddy Jericho was waiting for him. I was a mess but it was the right thing to do.

And so begins the subtle adjustments to life after "Charles the Last"... because he always was and always will be... my one and only cat. Ever.

Impressions.

One of the most influential pieces of advice ever given to me that has stuck with me through the years came from a supervisor many, many years ago. He was a little Irish guy who, had he been about 40 years younger, un-married, and without a pack of grand-kids, I'd probably have married for his delivery of good, bad or indifferent news alone. Each day, regardless of what was happening in the office, he popped into my office to check in with me and always treated me to a joke or funny story. He taught me everything I needed to know about my job with patience and good humor. He even took me seriously when I expressed interest in taking over the duties of an ineffective person in a role that I only had a feeling I could fill... no actual experience. I don't know for sure but I think that part of the reason I ended up with that promotion was because of how I accepted the conversation described below.

During my tenure with this organization, I had broken my ankle and had multiple surgeries resulting in several months in and out of the office, occasionally working from home when possible, but more than a bit disconnected from the daily happenings for quite some time. When I returned to work full-time, it took me a while to get back in the groove. One day he took me aside and asked me if I still enjoyed my job. I said, "Yes." (I didn't love it but I did enjoy it - particularly because of his leadership.) He then told me that I no longer was giving the impression that I enjoyed my job. Before I could formulate a response, he told me that regardless of what was really going on, it IS important to understand the impression that you are given people whether it is in a professional or personal setting.

That advice was too profound to respond to at the moment and I gracefully let him close the conversation with a few words about be given this feedback so that I could have the opportunity to change the impression that I was giving.

I understood exactly what he meant and carefully considered everything about myself that might be giving that impression. A few weeks later he pulled me aside again and told me that his impression had changed and he was very happy with how I had received and implemented his feedback.

Since then I have often considered the impression that I am giving people in a variety of situations. I realize that life is full of impressions - First impressions. Good impressions. Bad impressions. Only impressions. Lasting impressions. False impressions. Last impressions.

Recently I have been having the "Impression Discussion" (something that I've worked on with several of my supervisees over the years) with someone that desperately needs to understand the impressions he is giving in a variety of situations. Well, in this case it's really turned into more of a monologue than a discussion. I have reached the point where I can only hope that at some point he will realize that every action, inaction, decision, and indecision gives the people in his life an impression about him and right now, they aren't good.

I've received plenty of feedback - some good, some helpful, some not-so-good, some not helpful whatsoever - over the years and have found that receiving, sorting through, and implementing relevant feedback is essential to growth. It's certainly helped me to develop in many ways and I am grateful for it - even the tough stuff that was hard to swallow at the time.

Collinsville, CT - more than I thought!

For years Collinsville has been where I take a right over the bridge, glance quickly at the empty mill buildings, re-focus rapidly on the kayak store, make a left and forget about Collinsville until I go home two days later and reverse the order.

Today was different.

I knew that there was a small store just after the bridge that crosses the wide water falls that specializes in energy efficiency products. I had paused there once before but it was closed and this was the first time that the store was open when I was passing by so I stopped in to see what they had on hand.

After a few minutes, I found what I was looking for but was informed that they only accepted cash or check. (Checks? Who carries their check book with them any more?!) The proprietor informed me that across the road and up the hill was the "Collinsville Savings Society" which had an ATM on the side of the building. Since he had a slight foreign accent, I assumed that in Brussels (or from wherever he hailed) they referred to banks as "societies" as I had never heard this term before. He assured me that it was walking distance and having been in the car for ~3 hours by that time, a little stretching of the legs up the hill sounded pretty good.

Upon rounding the bend and arriving at the foot of the main street on the other side of the road, I found a utterly quaint downtown laid out before me. A market and deli with outdoor cafe seating was on the left side of the street complete with an older fellow unpacking a fiddle and some other tiny stringed instrument. The right side of the street had an old building with a variety of businesses in it including a place called "Flea Circus" which beckoned me with its unusual name and descriptive bullets saying "Items. Objects. Art. Stuff." (or something like that) Further up on the left was, indeed, the Collinsville Savings Society - a bank. As I exited the ATM, the clickety of hard-soled shoes on granite steps caught my attention and held it with his snappy attire including a real bow tie, wing tip shoes, and... I'm pretty sure I wasn't hallucinating... A pocket watch tucked and chained inside his three piece suit. I looked around to see if there were movie cameras because this place TRULY looked like something out of "The Truman Show" or some other film depicting an idyllic small town. It was complete with picket fences, freshly painted white houses with perfect green shutters and blooming daffodils, and a sloping brick-faced main street with a view of the river.

I slowed my pace on the way back down and, having started my day in a very cranky mood, made myself take notice of this little slice of small town-ness right on the path I've beaten between my home and my family's home for years. Right here - a sandwich shop for a good bite to eat instead of at the Dunkin Donuts or MacDonalds just down the road. A "savings society". An energy efficiency store. A gallery or two. Picket fences and idyllic scenery. Right here all the time!

I, of course, had to swing into Flea Circus for a peek and found that it was their first day in business! I was inches from swooping up the perfect baby gift for some VT friends due with baby number 1 in October but it was not for sale (unless I could guarantee the shop owner that when she has babies she can come over and photograph her kids in it). Dying to know what it is, eh K? :-) Well... It's a very old green tin baby tub that looks like a metal recliner. It's very cool! But despite my best efforts, it was not for sale. :-( I did find some very cool, very large metal hooks perfect for our coatrack projects so I scooped them up before heading back down the hill to make my purchase at the energy store and hit the road.

Again, despite being grateful for my brother's successful surgery the day before, I had been having a VERY hard time shaking my deep crankies but this short stop in Collinsville did the trick!

Egg Muffins - no Mc

I recently saw a few different recipes for low calorie egg options for breakfast that interested me but I needed to healthify them so I can't post a specific link. Last night we decided to give the healthified version a try. Unfortunately for my husband, I was on call for work and as soon as we pulled out the ingredients, I got a call and left him to the preparation. Lucky for me, he's completely at ease in the kitchen!

When I returned, he had already assembled the ingredients so I'm not sure of the exact measurements of each item but our safe estimate is that each of these little egg muffins come out to about 115 calories. Perfect for a quick, healthy, filling breakfast!

He used 12 eggs and filled nine large muffin cups with the egg. Then he added some diced orange peppers, chopped (fresh - not frozen) baby spinach, ~1/4 of a part-skim mozzarella cheese stick cut into slices, 1 tsp "Real Crumbled Bacon (Hormel 25 cal/1tbs), pepper, and nutritional yeast.

We baked them at 350* for about 25-30 minutes (we didn't really follow a specific recipe so we just kept checking it and took it out when they were firm).

My husband had them for dinner (I had been given a big bag of fresh fresh fresh sea scallops so, as the only seafood lover in the house, I indulged in those with some fresh asparagus) and he thought they were pretty wonderful! We then had them for breakfast this morning and they were quite tasty! The peppers and bacon gave it such great flavor - even my step-son who doesn't like veggies ate a few for an after school snack.

They end up with the consistency of a quiche without the added calories of a crust - perfect! Sorry - no pictures of ours but this is a picture of a recipe that most closely resembles what they look like. Maybe next time I'll remember to photograph them before they get gobbled or wrinkle up in the refrigerator.

His wish is my command...

Okay - that's not really QUITE how it works in my marriage but I am of the philosophy that if your spouse tells you that something is irritating him/her and you have the time/power/resources to fix it... why wouldn't you?

A few weeks ago on Pinterest.com I saw a really wonderful, life-changing spice organization rack system (which I found on Amazon.com for $6.99 + shipping). Since my husband is always grumbling (okay - he's only said it about 8 times in 4.5 years) about the number of jars, canisters, and bags of spices that he has to sort through to get to the one thing he wants under the jumble, I ordered them (one set holds 20 containers).

We are tall people so our spice cabinet is above our stove... and above the microwave so it's pretty high and a tad awkward to reach into without knocking 47 things over. Last summer when someone stacked the glass jar of smoky chipotle paprika triple decker on top of the gigantic tubs of red pepper flakes and black pepper (seriously... why do I buy these things in bulk?)... it spread its lovely aroma and fine dust into every nook and crevice in our kitchen and dining room as the glass shattered on the tile floor. I found shards of glass for weeks and paprika dust for months. The upside is that the house smelled quite exotic for a while!

So the new racks arrived and sat on the counter for a few days (arriving mid-week is never good for guests or new projects - I just don't have time to attend to them!). Last night when I got home, my husband had unpacked them and inserted 20 containers of Ground Allspice, Ground Ginger, Curry, Cinnamon, Cumin, Pepper (seriously... more pepper!) etc into the clips just to see how they worked. He said, "We've got to DO something about the duplicates!" and proceeded to show me multiple jars of basil, oregano, garlic powder etc. I agreed and did a little ol' soft shoe to try and distract him from the fact that there is also an entire drawer full of spices that he hadn't pulled out. But... he was way ahead of me and said, "I don't even KNOW what's in the drawer but we should donate all of it!" (He's really not demanding, I just use "!" for emphasis.) Donate spices? Yes! His Mason's Lodge has a woefully equipped kitchen with a pitiful selection of spices - perfect!

Today I had workmen in the house finishing up some energy efficiency projects and since they took ~3 hours longer than planned, I had P-L-E-N-T-Y of time on my hands puttering about in the kitchen since most other rooms were covered in saw dust and insulation. Therefore I pulled out ALL (yes, including those in the drawer...) of the spices (and oils... apparently I have a thing for seasoned oils as well) and lined them up with like items on the counter. (Full disclosure admission: In addition to the bulk sized barrel of black pepper, I also had two black pepper tins, four five black pepper grinders [one was hiding on the island], and a Mason jar of red and black pepper corns. Should a pepper famine strike the land, come to our house.) Once I established that an expiration date of 2005 was outside of the acceptable range (unless you are my dad and that is just getting to the perfect stage of rancidness), I married like with like, tossed items like chili powder that was so old it no longer even had a scent, and filled a bag with perfectly good (non-expired) spices for the Lodge.

I peeled the backing off of the sticker on the back of the spice racks and aligned them perfectly (except for the one that I stuck on hastily and a touch crooked - I was distracted. Did I mention the chaos in my home today?) and inserted the 20 items best suited for the racks. Then I organized the multi-step shelf with the rest of the small and medium jars and the open area with the large spice vats and the non-expired oils.

I was left with several baggies of spice rub (and one jar of mystery spice blend that may or may not be Old Bay but it smelled good so it made the cut). For a split second I considered tossing them because they didn't fit neatly in my layout. But the eco-nerd in me won. I just couldn't waste them. I went to the basement and found an old Clementine box (yes, the ones that come for FREE when you buy Clementines!), a couple of screws and some washers. I mounted the box with the top facing out (a mini-shelf!) along the top of back wall inside the cabinet. It holds the assorted random items perfectly!

The organization-nerd in me then took pictures and sent them to my husband at work. He was thrilled! No. Really. He was!

Blurry but you get the idea. Don't zoom in or you'll see
how badly we need new cabinets or that my mom needs to come visit and
have nothing better to do than to wash cabinet faces...

You are welcome for the free advertising, Cape Cod Brown Bag BBQ Rub
(which is delicious, by the way!)

I was going to spare my readers (all four of you) the agony of my blurry photos but heck, if my husband (okay, aside from him I have three readers...) had to endure them at work, then you can too.

I then turned around and saw the empty drawer and knew that I had to fill it. So I rushed out and bought more spices took the multiple vitamin jars off the top of the fridge and nestled them in there neatly. I'll spare you the pictures of that but don't worry, my husband got to see them... at work.