Milo and the Moon

Milo’s’ small brown speckled puppy face oozed endearing cuteness from the puppy carry case.  My daughter, Jen arrived at my house Saturday evening.   Off work late, she decided to stay the night at my house and brought Mr. Milo along for a visit.

He is a Brittany Spaniel, about 2 months old and full of zestful energy.  Unlike the languorous nature of  rubenesque Miss Cleo cat, Milo galloped throughout the house and retrieved shoes stashed under beds and furniture.

In spite of his adorable face that pleaded for sweet, mushy attention, a few random, cranky thoughts crossed through my brain.   An empty nester for several years now, I navigate my days unfettered by care-taking tasks , and puppy Milo required supervised attention.

Inside voice groaned and complained, “Oh great, he is going to interrupt my sleep as we need to take him out a least once to go to the bathroom.”

We tried to watch a show, but Mr.  Milo demanded our full attention.  Finally we abandon our movie plan, and Jen took Milo out back to run him back and forth in the yard to help dial down his exuberant energy so we could sleep.  Sure enough, a few hours into a lovely slumber, I heard the signals that Milo needed to go outside.

Jen roused herself and together we stumbled out the back door with Milo in tow.   Crisp air danced lightly on our faces, and the full moon illuminated the grass delicately painted with frost. While we waited for Milo to sniff out that perfect spot, we both looked up to a sky covered with a patterned formation of broken white clouds.   The creation of the clouds appeared to form a large circle that covered two-thirds of the sky.

As the clouds moved, the harvest moon managed to occupy a place in the center, and the effect was that of a cosmic spotlight beaming to the earth.  The graceful early morning silence enfolded us. We both stood longer than I thought we would and watched the clouds lazily sweep across the sky.   The moon continued to find open slots to peek at us with a soft, fall weather illumination.

Already fond memories are forged around the new puppy, and because Milo needed to go outside, we experienced a sparkly, celestial performance that we otherwise would have slept through.

From Cantankerous Behavior to Laughter

Friday finally arrived after another busy week at work and I felt that wonderful euphoric relief.  The mood in the office always relaxed, jovial as we all look forward to the weekend break.

However, somewhere in the day, my mood took a dive, perhaps due to fatigue.  Tunnel vision descended, a lighthearted mood spiraled to cantankerous behavior that took comments, and emails out of context, the wrong way, or personal.

The result, at the end of the day I apologized for a mean-spirited email I sent to a boss, and to another coworker for an unnecessary comment specially designed to make him feel bad.   They both graciously accepted as we all realized we have our less than stellar moments.  I berated myself a bit for the level of meanness that I am capable of, and then felt a surge gratitude that I work with good people with large hearts, always willing to talk out issues and find solutions.

Still,  I wanted to immediately leave work and take a reality dive complete with massive amounts of chocolate and blanket over my head.  My escape plan was suddenly interrupted by the loud  buzz of my phone that signaled an incoming text message.  It was an invitation to go to a movie with my dear friend Sharon.

My inside voice immediately responded, “Oh no, I am tired, feeling low and need to go home to engage in a massive self-pity reality dive.”

However, I paused, and instead simply responded, “Yes, thank you.”

From that point, we hashed out the evening plans via text.  First on the agenda was a stop at the famous Whole Foods Market to partake of their diverse food menu and eat on the patio.  Next stop was the Flicks movie theater for see Austenland, a movie I essentially knew nothing about other than it is a romantic comedy centered on  a young woman’s obsession with Jane Austin and Mr. Darcy.

Still feeling a bit surly, edgy, and discontent, I nonetheless enjoyed chatting with Sharon as we watched the theater fill up primarily with women. Chick Flick night!  What a great evening, not only with Sharon but also with a theater full of women (and three guys) that I did not know.  A charming, entertaining, witty movie that we all easily laughed,  chortled, clapped, and completely gave ourselves too for our own gala evening.

At the end a woman behind me cheerfully remarked, “This really is one of the best shared audience movie experiences I have attended in a while.”

We all left the theater smiling.   I felt terrific and slept incredibly well, a tangible testament to the power of laughter, friendship, and sharing a movie night with live people.

Oh Ireland! Clonakilty, Skibberean, Baltimore, Sherkin Island and Traditional Irish Music!

Tuesday, July 2 to Baltimore and ferry ride to Sherkin  Island

Walking Sherkin Island

Maeve just told me to take an early evening nap.  She wanted me refreshed to attend a traditional music session at the O’Donovan pub tonight and they always start late, at 9:30pm.

I decided to solo travel during my second week in Ireland and travel by bus to various villages I arrived in charming Clonakilty late Monday afternoon, and after several phone calls to Maeve’s Bed and Breakfast business, finally pointed myself in the right direction to reach my destination.

For Tuesday, my plan, and Maeve’s, was for her to drop me off at a famous Clonakilty sandy beach where I intended to stay most of the day lounging, hiking, and reading.  When done, I planned to walk the 2 ½ mile trail back to town.

Tuesday, I woke to cloudy skies that signaled the beginning of  a perfect day for me.  However, Maeve, at breakfast informed, “Well Susan, our plans are changed, no beach day.”

One of the reason I picked the place is the Travel Advisor review logged excellent comments regarding Maeve’s hospitality and celebrated skill at planning enjoyable adventures for her guests.  In spite of that my inside voice still fired up,  “Our plans?  My friends are burning up in Boise in 100 plus degree heat, and I well be joining them soon enough.  I don’t mind a drizzle on the beach. I need to soak up this moisture.  I am going to the beach!”   Instead,  I smiled politely,  turned my care over to Maeve’s expert experience, and sat down to a delicious Irish breakfast.

Maeve returned with a coffee refill, a map and had plotted out my day for me.  A trip to Baltimore via the bus routes.   An exciting, agreeable journey and I had toyed with going there anyway.   I contemplated that I would pack my backpack and find a place to stay in Baltimore, as it is a coastal town and during the week easy to get a room.  However, as Maeve is talking, I can tell she has planned for me to go out for the day and return to her place for another night. And in all fairness, I had indicated I would stay two nights in Clonakilty and true to her reputation, Maeve has prepared for my stay.

Inside voice fires up again,  “It is my journey, I am an adult, and I simply need to inform Maeve where I intend to stay.”  However, she was enchantingly firm in her plans for me, and further informed me that only on Tuesday evenings in Clonakilty a great traditional Irish set at O’Donovan’s gathers.   A pub she said is comfortable, safe, and roomy and I will hear some great music.

I loitered too long at breakfast and Maeve urged in her lyrical, soft Irish tone, “I think you should get on downtown, get yourself situated so you know where you are and can catch the bus on time.  Oh, sorry, don’t mean to be bossy but I think you will have a great time.”

She knows that I am a bit remorseful that I dallied so long getting out of Cork on Monday.  If I had gotten myself on the bus earlier, I would have arrived to a gorgeous sunny day that was perfect for a walk on the beach.  But that was Monday and no more looking in the rear view mirror. “What will be will be.”  It is Tuesday and I am to get moving.

Off I went, and caught the first bus early to Skibberean where I transferred to the small village of Baltimore.  From there I caught a Ferry to Sherkin Island for a lovely trek to a beautiful beach.  In addition a bonus of foggy mist, and an Irish soft rain graced the walking path.

However, the rain faucet cranked up to a drenching flow as I got on the ferry and returned to Baltimore.  Soaking wet, I entered a pretty cafe on the harbor and ordered seafood chowder.  A delectable choice served with two pieces of tasty  brown Irish soda bread and butter.  The timing was perfect, I was able to check out a few craft shops and then catch the bus to begin the trek back to Maeve’s place.

The bus ride both going to and coming from Baltimore is a narrow winding road and only a few men who had spent the rainy day in various pubs were riding that day.  The bus fragrant with whiskey and the banter between the men was damn funny.  One gentleman said he was going to divorce his wife so he could fish all the time if he wanted. Another informed me that many Irish men were marrying Russian women.  Doing the mail order bride deal.  “Wow ,”was really all I could manage to respond on that topic.

On the back to town the bus encountered a little car zooming dangerously  fast on the narrow road. The bus driver stopped and honked his horn at the “Fecking ijit.”

The other guy on the bus, “Well looks like that bloke got his rear-view mirror sheared off.”  (the car had to swerve into  hedges to avoid scraping against the bus)

Bus Driver – “Well serves the ijit right.”

Other guy – “Madness, I say, pure madness.

I arrived both elated and relaxed back to Maeve’s place, took her wise nap recommendation, and prepared to hear an evening of fantastic Irish music.

Ireland never fails to provide fantastic, soulful, humorous, and sparkly experiences.  The music was an incredible, authentic Irish set with about 15 musicians.  In addition, the woman leading the group educated the pub about the music and traditions of Ireland.  Gathering, playing instruments together, singing and telling stories.  In fact she shushed the pub up when someone was taking a turn at a song.  A cherished Irish moment occurred when the entire pub joined in singing a sweet song.  The unity of gentle voices embraced the crowd, time temporarily suspended and Ireland drew me lovingly into her lush green land.

Oh Ireland and American Pie!

Dingle Harbor

Miss Molly had a swollen face after a long overdue visit to the dentist to fill three cavities.  She asked me to stop and bring her a smoothie after I got off of work.  I went to the nearest smoothie-making place for a protein enriched berry mix delight to drop off at her apartment.   While waiting in line, a familiar and beloved song began to play on the store radio. 

American Pie by Don McLean filled up the cafe.  Always happy to hear the tune as it is a favorite for myself and many folks.   Furthermore, the song now instantly sparks a cherished memory from my recent trip to Ireland; a lovely and uniquely humorous Irish moment.

One of the weekend trips involved a trip to Dingle for a stay in the Dingle Harbour Lodge.   Dingle came highly recommended for its incredible coastline, beaches, and authentic Irish music.  A visit to a local music shop provided an itinerary that kept us busy attending several authentic Irish music concerts and recommendations to pubs to hear incredible musicians.

Ireland never fails to deliver ones deepest desire and hope.   Dingle staged a folk concert in St. James, an old church with outstanding musicians.  The guitar player was brilliant and came out singing, She Moves Through the Fair.  A haunting song performed in a clear voice after he told us how he had spent a great deal of time working with the song to get it to unfold and deliver according to his musical vision.   I struggle to find words how exquisite a moment that was.  The rest of the music group joined in after that tune and included a brilliant Uilleann pipe musician.

One evening I discovered that the music did not necessarily stay confined to the pubs or concert venues.   Saturday night, or rather early Sunday morning, a flurry of laughing and loud voices treated all the hotel guests  to a lovely crack of dawn concert provided by a group of Irish lads fresh from a bachelor party.Among their numerous, amazing repertoire of songs performed under our windows, they delivered an excellent, lively, sparkly rendition of America Pie.

Groggy with sleep and admittedly at first feeling a hint of crankiness, I quickly experienced a lightening of heart and spirit.   Even now the memory brings a smile to my face and in hindsight, I wish I had stuck my head out the window and requested them to sing Danny Boy for me!

 

Move-in day at Boise State University

The Towers Housing – Boise State University

I enjoy the rhythm of the University.  Fifteen years of employment time on campus combined with the fourteen years it took to finish my undergraduate degree, have produced a long and multifaceted relationship with Boise State University.

In an age of economic crises and with the workforce population often required to relocate, my continuity of employment experienced at Boise State University both surprises me and fills me with gratitude.

The end of the spring semester brings a frenzy of stressful energy as students work to complete projects, coursework, and study for exams.  Graduation provides celebration and closure to the academic year and the majority of students exit for summer work or adventures.  Even with the intercession summer classes, the 3, 5, 8-week schedule, the bulk of the student flow is gone.  Landscape, construction and remodel projects fire up and what I term “the underbelly” of the university claims the campus.

We are the year around employees, the infrastructure that continue completing old projects and launching new ones to prepare for the fall semester.  We all enjoy the vibrant energy of the students and it takes a little time to adjust to the quieter campus.  However, within a few weeks, we reclaim the space and enjoy the temporary absence of the student flow.

Before each semester begins, I take a traditional walk across a campus gradually becoming busier with returning students and faculty.  The energy palpable, and a week before the first day of class a growing buzz of preparatory activity takes place. Move in day is delightful, and heartwarming to watch. An abundance of family and friends haul in baskets of supplies to the dorms.  Parents lug crates of toilet paper, granola bars, peanut butter jelly and crackers, and the infamous Ramen noodles to assigned rooms.

Lincoln Housing – Boise State University

Buoyant, excited looks on the faces of the young people inspire hope for our future.  Lots of laughter, smiles, and invigorating energy populate the campus. Students are the lifeblood of the university and their sparkly dreams spread throughout BSU.  New friendships, stories, homework angst, challenges, adventures, and careers are already unfolding.

Oh Ireland, June 20, 2013

From the book – The House on an Irish Hillside – The author, Felicity Hayes-McCoy writes:
“There’s an ancient Irish belief in ‘places of resurrection’, where a spirit is happiest on earth and more in touch with eternity. The first time I crossed the mountains of Corca Dhuibhne I found my place of resurrection.”

So Exciting!

The plan to record the story of my recent travel to Ireland was to blog and share the link with my friends.  Easy enough it seemed.  That did not really happen. While I joyfully managed to email some photos, emails and a few postcards, the blogging plan did not unfold.

Ireland is a constant spark of life, music, conversation, adventure, and incredible green landscape where I walked at least 10 to 20 miles a day, and spent the great majority of my time outside.  Free from the cubicle world, free from allergies and free from the hot dry heat of Idaho, I let myself drown in the lush environment.  Therefore, I am backtracking a bit and while not written in “real-time” for the blog, I am forging ahead recording the absolutely lovely experience.

June 20, 2013

A full day of travel that started at the Boise airport 6 am in the morning with a smooth easy flight to San Francisco and a 3 three-hour layover.  Not bad, and I walked around to prepare for the 9 hour flight.

The plan departed right on time at 1 pm and I found myself seated with 2 sisters, Angel and Carmel, originally from Cork, Ireland.  And the sister part meaning they were nuns from the San Francisco area.  Born and raised in Cork, both had lived in the USA for quite some time and were headed to Cork to visit family,   I felt that was quite special, my plane mates from Cork  and an Irish sign of an extraordinary trip.  We all had a lovely time, reading, chatting, watching the corny movies suitable for all ages on the plan, eating, laughing – not much sleeping.

I quickly lost track of time and soon dusk settled in with a large moon glowing off of the right-wing.  I attempted to take a few pictures but had not been able to get the flash turned off the camera, so it kept flashing back in the window.   The moon remained in my sight for a long time, big, bright, beautiful;floating on the horizon with a sea of clouds below.

Due to excitement I had not slept much the night before leaving and arrived at Heathrow airport feeling dull, slow, and that I could easily fall asleep standing on my feet.   The next ordeal unfolded as passengers waited to pass into the UK, get to terminal 1 and board a flight to Dublin.   We all had to fill out landing paperwork, after being told on the plans that no forms were required, …”just quickly get into the transit line.”  With the long line and only 90 minutes until my plane left for Dublin, I filled out my paperwork in “the Que” as the agents called it.

The agent had many questions for me,  irritated with my sloppy handwriting on the landing card, and asked me a few questions that made sense and others that seemed rather personal and weird. I finally got through only to encounter another set of  long lines and finally during security check had my backpack pulled aside because I had not pulled my iPad out.  Traveling in the US, we do not have to take iPad’s out, and I was not the only traveler to make that mistake.

I missed my 9:30 flight to Dublin but was easily and quickly rescheduled on the next plane out.  From the Dublin airport I boarded a comfortable express coach for  3 hour bus ride to Cork.

First Look At Cork

Misty Franklin Tree and the Journey to Ireland Begins

Since my last photo shoot of the Franklin tree last fall, the limbs froze into the winter and slowly grew to life as spring emerged. During that time the watcher returned and feathered a nest. I am fairly certain they are hawks even though I have not taken binoculars or gotten a close up picture to identify.

If I am not taking the bus, I drive by the tree at least once a day and during that time witnessed at least 3 new birds emerge from the nest. I may sound a bit doubtful because for the time being, due to my drive by observations, I have not collected close up evidence. However, for the last few weeks, daily two watchers perch high in the limbs and three sit on the rim of the nest.

Finally, the rainy morning of Wednesday, June 19, the day before I start my journey to Ireland, I lurched out of bed early enough, determined to get a picture. Lush, moist weather greeted me and I began the trek to work keen to capture the activity of the Franklin tree in a photo.

What? Only one bird was observable high in the tree. No bird expert, I surmised the others remained warm in their nest. Admittedly I was rather disappointed the family was not prepared for me to take their photos and almost kept driving. If you cannot all be gathered, then no picture. However, I got over that rather quickly, pulled over, walked into that velvety misty air, and captured a few pictures. A perfect morning unfolded as the watcher and I silently greeted each other.

In one hour I leave the airport to begin the trek to Cork, Ireland. I traveled to Belfast, Ireland in 1997 on a Global Village build with Habitat for Humanity and had an extraordinary experience. My other trips out of the country have also been with Habitat for Humanity. This incredible gift of a trip to Cork, Ireland is my first more leisure trip. No digging, hauling dirt or mixing cement. I could barely sleep last night due to anticipation and excitement. Time to get ready now and begin the return to Ireland.

Honeybees and Lavendar

Finally home and able to settle into my patio lounge chair in a deliciously shaded  back yard.  What a relief and I feel the tension of the day exit into the spacious outdoors.

On Thursday I leave to spend two weeks in Cork, Ireland.  A wonderful opportunity and gift graciously given by a dear friend.  I love the days before traveling, so full of excitement, anticipation, hope for a new perspective on life and future goals.

With thoughts of Ireland lacing through my thoughts,  my tired eyes still started their slide down into a sweet early evening doze.  I have become a dozer person in my old age.  I can sit in a chair, conk out for five to ten minutes, and then be ready to go.  Like a computer, that simply needs a reboot.

Wait, what is that flicker?  I caught movement before I fully closed my eyes. Activity that I hoped to see, particularly with all the reports concerning the dire peril of the honeybees.   The flutter is among the lavender bushes planted on the edge of the patio.  Three honeybees busy working between the two bushes, and then flit over to the other variety of potted flowers.

Suddenly the dance of the bees among the stems becomes a unique, sparkly moment. I realize I have taken for granted that swarms would always exist. Lately the news on their demise is disturbing, worrisome and yet another ecological indicator that the balance of nature is askew.  I feel a deeper reverence for the work they accomplish with their graceful patterns lacing among the lavender stems.

Collective Memories

February First Thursday in downtown Boise, at the Idaho Fettuccine Forum saw one of its finer presentation moments by Professor Lynn Lubamersky’s,  Memory and History: Inclusion and Exclusion in Public Commemoration.  As Boise approaches it 150 birthday celebration, Lynn has launched a project via Facebook to gather collective memories of our community.

I moved to Boise in 1978 and throughout the years  frequently struggled with feeling a sense of community or belonging.  I claim responsibility for much of my attitude and chalk it up to an ongoing restless streak, at times an attitude of terminal uniqueness, and the grass is greener somewhere else mentality. The opportunity to pause and share memories with others is restorative and fosters a sense of belonging.

Again, a friend’s observation works well here,    “Strange the way paths cross. In fact, only when they cross do you realize you’ve been on a path.”  Sharing memories flushes out the threads of my life, our lives together, in the tapestry of Idaho.

Then life got better as we walked out of the historic Union Block to the lovely streets of Boise, we encountered a group of young people giving away free hugs. My friend, Noreen, and I laughed, hesitated and kept walking. Then the magic, the spark  – the why not, and we let these extraordinary folks embrace us with a group hug, smiling and laughing.  How simple the act and what extraordinary young people taking time to disperse a gentle, kind gesture to strangers on the street.  The encounter put a smile on my face for days.

Text Messages and Spiritual Faces

On December 7, my daughter Jen and I had a spiritual text conversation.  One of our infamous, special meaning of life, things feel sort of strange, something is afoot in the cosmosworld mother-daughter connected moments.

Most parents feel and experience unspoken connections with their children.  Even as both my girls are grown up and living away from home, I can sense when something is wrong.   Sometimes images occur in my dreams or generally I experience a sensation of uneasiness.  I wonder if one of them is sick or having a difficult time in their lives.

The mystical clan bond cuts both ways.  I have traversed some sad turf in the last year,  and at certain times received calls from either Molly or Jen inquiring, “Hey mom, you okay? I felt an overwhelming rush of sadness and apprehension and am checking in, you okay?”

The calls always came at critical junctures when I had just received difficult news concerning the health status of a dear friend or some other dire information.

Early entries in this blog joke about our “spiritual faces” during periods when we enjoy a special event, vacation, music, scenery, tender conversational interludes, or unique occurrences.  Least my moods get too uncontrollably sappy, my daughters often jolt me back to earth exclaiming, “Oh, Oh, look out, mom has spiritual face on!”    Spiritual Face Alert

Meanwhile, with permission from Jen to share, I present one of our classic  “what is going on here?” text conversations:

Jen – “Today I keep getting these “bouts of anxiety… are you getting them too?”

Me – (the mom)-  “Yes, I feel unsettled whereas on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I felt really grounded and peaceful, not sure what is going on.”

Jen – “Yeah me too, I just feel anxious and shifty about something I guess we will have to see.”

Me – “Well there was an earthquake in Japan and I think a storm in the Philippines this week.”

Jen – “Are they shockwaves before or after hurricane?  I ahhh, I just don’t know hahaha.  Ha-ha weird but I mean like is there still a shit storm to come?  Or maybe things beginning to shift…”

Me – “I believe things are beginning to shift.”

Jen – “We’ve all been feeling things changing inside and outside of us and perhaps this just the turnover.”

Me – “I like the way you worded that I tend to believe it is the turnover too.  I feel pretty grounded lately and wonder if the anxiety is us picking up other people’s fears and worries.”

Jen – “Hmmmm, interesting thought.”

Me – “The other is that our spirits are vibrating at a higher rate so we can make the change not sure that makes sense will have to explain that more later.”  (oh dear, I have been having difficulty sleeping lately, and I am not sure what I am talking about here – little mind slippage going on.)

Jen – “Hahaha okay mom.  Either way, I feel like the tides are definitely starting to turn.  I don’t know what that means for either of us, yet but it is happening ha-ha.”

Me – “Whoa I kind of got out there whoohooo..”

Jen – “Hahahah its okay mom, I understand, just reel it back in a little bit, we can still talk about it though … sounds interesting either way.”

Me – “For sure reeling me self in now and going home love you. – I have my spiritual face on, do you?”

Jen – “Oh yeah hahahah.”

The Emerson and Nelis Clan. Jen and Molly Emerson in white sweaters.
Susan Emerson in glitter dress, my mom, Bonnie Huff, and sparkly Gabrielle Nelis.