New gate = Done. Dog = Not happy about it.

Since we moved into our house 4.5 years ago, we've been chipping away at various projects. Because our previous house was a total renovation from the ground up that we completed in 1.5 years and sold the minute it was done, we've taken our time and chosen our projects carefully. One project that kept getting pushed to the back burner was removing, re-aligning along the property line, and re-building a new fence to enclose our back yard. It kept slipping down the list because we have a very well-behaved dog who rarely leaves the yard (see exception below) and even when we... ahem... forget and leave him outside he just sits patiently by the door until one of us jumps up and races to the door upon remembering that he is outside. He is a very good boy!

Recently we found scat in the yard that closely resembled coyote scat and because we know there are several coyotes living in the 300+ acres of conservation land across from our house, it's not unreasonable to think that they have been in our yard. Brody has occasionally both barked at the window and cowered away from it - another sure sign that something scary is out there.

So... with the intention of keeping frightening four-legged predators OUT of our yard, it was time to get on with the next phase of enclosing the back yard.

In the first push to replace the old fence (brought to the top of the list by the huge pine tree that knocked down a huge section of it) we installed ~110' of brand spanking new stockade fence between our yard and our neighbors to the south west. We also added new wire fence to attach the stockade fence to the house and close off the front yard except for the gate which has been an open gap for 4.5 years.

Brody has an addiction. Brian. The neighbor.

Brian lives in the house across the new section of fence and when he pulls into the driveway at night, if Brody is out, Brian hears "Incoming!" as Brody barrels across the yard and jumps into his lap in his van in search of the treat that he knows Brian buys just for him.

I got the marble idea from a Pinterest.com post

Enter the new gate.

Today we finished building the new gate. It's a lovely piece of art that we are very proud of! I got part of the idea for the design from a posting that I saw on Pinterest.com (we all have our addictions...). Yesterday I spent several hours staining the pieces for the gate a beautiful deep sea blue. Today we assembled it and added the artistic touches.

We live on Cape Cod so waves seemed natural and as we created it we realized that it also reminded us of one of our favorite stops (the Alaska Paddle Inn) on our trip to Alaska last summer. Then (this is part I got from Pinterest.com) we drilled holes in the upper part of the gate and inserted ~35 marbles that my step-son happily donated to the project (he's 18 and has outgrown marbles as you can't eat 'em, shoot 'em, or drive 'em).

While we were very pleased with the outcome, Brody made his displeasure known as he sat with me while I put the finishing touches on the new art gate. Every time I swung the gate open, he tip-toed out (Yes, our dog tip-toes. Don't believe me? Come visit when he's supposed to stay downstairs while my husband is sleeping upstairs - he waits for me to stop paying attention and tip-toes up the stairs to sneak on the bed for a snuggle) and sat defiantly regally about 10 feet away gazing at the children playing with a puppy in the yard across the street. He looked back at me often as if to say "WHY do we need a gate?!? SEE how GOOD I am?!?!" Then he would get bored and go to the back yard to play with his red ball in the dirt near the burn pile that my husband was tending.

At about 6pm, Brian was due home. Brody can set his watch by this and soon he was seated next to me at the gate staring wistfully through the wire fence as Brian backed his van into place. He looked from me to Brian to the closed gate back to me and back to Brian. How sad. I opened the gate and shouted "Incoming!" as Brian opened the door. I returned to my painting as Brody and Brian went through their evening ritual only to hear "Oh... I see... I don't have any treats so you turn your back on me?"

Poor Brod had endured the humiliation of having to wait to be let out of the gate only to find that his crack cookie dealer was out of stock. He stood sulking and enduring Brian's pleas for forgiveness for a few minutes and then lumbered back to the back yard to play with his red ball again - his only joy now that his freedom has been restricted and his best pal ran out of treats.

Not to worry. He's snuggled on the couch now and seems none the worse for wear and the new gate looks great!

70+ degrees in March...

I am a weather purist. I prefer my winters snowy, my summers sunny, my falls crisp and cool, and my springs lion-to-lamb-like. I live in New England BECAUSE of the delights of each of those seasons, after all!

However... if Mother Nature is taking requests, I'd like a week of weather like this (mid 60's to mid 70's and sunny) in early to mid-March every year (and the accompanying free time as long I am being wishful). Having good weather to knock out outdoor painting and construction projects before the vegetation and insane schedule of the summer sets in is fabulous!

Now... let's return to our previously scheduled lion-to-lamb-like weather because we need some RAIN!!!

Maybe her toe hurt...

Whenever I am asked the question "What one person, alive or dead, would you want to have dinner with if given the opportunity?" I always give the same answer - Papa T.. I didn't know my dad's dad and from the stories that people tell me (mostly my mom), he was a lovely man with quiet wisdom and kindness aplenty. I knew many of his siblings (who could also be described that way) but he passed away about five years before I was born.

My mom has told me the story many times of my grandfather pumping gas for a woman at his service station - the woman was exceptionally rude and demanding but he tolerated it and did as she asked. After she left, my mother asked him why he put up with her bad behavior. "Maybe her toe hurt" he responded. And maybe it did. It doesn't, OF COURSE, excuse bad behavior but sometimes you do have to try to remember that everyone is struggling with something. Maybe it's a current issue or maybe it's a past hurt that they just can't get over. Maybe it's big, maybe it's little.. but everyone is struggling with something.

Occasionally I am smacked in the back of the head with my grandfather's simple reminder when I've tired of someone's poor behavior and have gotten angry or frustrated with them. Recently I was getting frequent phone calls from one employee who was rearranging her schedule constantly or calling late at night to find out what her schedule was for the next day. I was getting irritated because she should have taken care of this during the day or she should have held on to the paperwork given to her at the beginning of the week. I let her supervisor know that I was getting these frequent calls and figured that would put an end to it. Later that afternoon I was in the office and overheard how this woman's "toe hurt". She had been raising her daughter's two small children for the past several years because her daughter was on active duty in the military. The children's father had disappeared after doing some time in the brig after an incident while in the military. While the children's mother was deployed in Afghanistan, the father showed up and took the children to the mid-west - far from everyone and everything familiar to them. The kids don't know him (they are ~3 and ~5 years old and he had been gone for years) so the sudden change for them was very traumatic not to mention stressful for all involved. Unfortunately there was nothing that the grandparents could do as the daughter had not done anything officially before her deployment to block the father from taking the children. She assumed that he was long gone and never coming back.

I sat at the desk printing my reports with the echo of "Maybe her toe hurt" resounding through my mind. I had gotten very frustrated with this woman for her lack of organization and forgetfulness all week long... but now that I knew what she had been struggling with at home, I felt awful.

This isn't the only time that this has happened to me. Occasionally I forget Papa's words and let people's actions frustrate or irritate me... and often I get the reminder that I need that everyone is struggling with something.

Saying goodbye...

In the past two weeks, I've had to say goodbye to two friends from college. One passed away suddenly of a heart attack. I hadn't seen her in many years until last summer when she joined in on a group camping trip. She hadn't changed a bit! She was still vivacious and funny and ready to just have a good time with everyone.

The other was killed by an avalanche while skiing in the backcountry in Jackson Hole. I hadn't seen him since 1993 when my roommate and I swung into JH on our way to Montana. We stayed at his little apartment for a day or two, carved pumpkins with him, and had some laughs - as usual. The pull of getting to Montana in time to find jobs took over and we slipped away. I never saw him again but I always wondered what became of him. He also was the life of the party - never unkind, he was always ready to hang out with anyone any time. He pledged a fraternity affiliated with a different sorority from mine but it was easy to forget that he was a KMA brother because he got along with everyone.

A little over two years ago we said a tearful goodbye to another friend who had a minor accident that went bad because of the years he'd spent abusing his body. It was too late before he realized how it had caught up with him.

All three of these friends were 42 years old. I am 42 years old. 42 years old is way too young to be buried or burying friends!

What does my car say about me?

Tonight I opened the hatch of my car and stood there for a minute considering the contents. Here, in no particular order, is a list of the more notable incongruous items that regularly jostle around back there together.

• A bag of biodegradable utensils and napkins.
  
• A camera.
  
• A dozen or more reusable shopping bags.
  
• A 1970's laundry basket.
  
• A collection of 40 or so assorted wine bottle corks.
  
• A yoga mat.
  
• A pair of hip waders.

I might have rolled into yoga class looking like a bad stereotype in my suburban mama Volvo wagon but I'm pretty sure that I am the only person that had to move my hip waders aside to get my yoga mat out of the car.

Life is full of grand and varied experiences. You have to be ready for anything.