Maggie's Musings

out where spring is springing

2012-03-05T12:30:00.001-07:00

Ooooh, it's warm out! Yesterday it was not only warm, but sunny! I love springtime in the northern Rockies. Open the doors and windows, breathe deep! I felt like my lawn was greening up right before my eyes yesterday, as I sat on a south-facing wall and basked in the midday rays. Got me to thinking about geraniums: it's time to get them all trimmed, put cuttings in water, put all of the wintered-over geraniums in bright windows, and re-pot the ones that need it.

This is how the geraniums on my back deck looked last summer:

I like to make my back deck feel like an outdoor living room. It's the best! Here's another view, this time closer, of the deck "ambiance" with table-top coleus plants and the huge, beautiful begonia my cousin Kathy gave me:

So far, the begonia plant is surviving the gray winter, in my dining room window.

This exhilarating spring feeling makes me want to shovel dirt, get my fingernails filthy, spruce up my little vegetable garden spot, shop for more seeds, and make a list of projects. Yeah, spring! Let's go...

Robins!

2012-02-23T13:02:00.001-07:00

The first thing I saw this morning, when I sat up in bed and looked out the patio door, was a nice big robin. It was big and its breast was plump and bright orange, so I'm assuming it was a male. It even seemed like he was sticking his chest out as he stood there on my deck and cocked his head at me.

I love it when the robins come back! They are swooping around in a flock, singing, and eating the old, frozen, shriveled berries on the mountain ash trees.

Welcome home, robins, from wherever you've been! May your arrival mean that spring is just around the corner.

2012-02-20T14:24:00.000-07:00

Yep, I'm in there, puffy little hairdo and all. it was 1965 -- 8th grade at St. Ambrose School in Detroit, Michigan. Can you find me? oh to be this young and lean and energetic again, but without the anxiety about fitting in, getting into the damned clique, dating boys, caring what people think...it's fun to look at old photos, isn't it?

tropical daydreamin'

2012-02-16T12:17:00.000-07:00

This is the season when I think about tropical beaches, and wish I could be on one for at least a month. A few years back I took a winter vacation to the astounding Hawaiian island of Kaua'i, where the powerful, intimidating ocean inspired me to write the poem below, entitled "Invisible Force." I hope you enjoy it. Again and again I watched island visitors naively putting themselves in danger on shoreline rocks, in riptides, and on beaches that Hawaiian officials had closed due to the winter's high swell.

I don't pretend to be an expert on ancient Hawaiian tradition. The poem simply expresses what I imagine, having watched that ocean, heard the stories, and felt myself being pulled out to sea while snorkeling. It's really about respecting the power of nature.

Here is what Wikipedia says: "...Kanaloa is symbolized by the squid or by the octopus, and is typically associated with Kāne. It is also the name of an extinct volcano in Hawaiʻi. In legends and chants Kāne and Kanaloa are portrayed as complementary powers (Beckwith 1970:62–65). For example: Kāne was called upon during the building of a canoe, Kanaloa during the sailing of it; Kāne governed the northern edge of the ecliptic, Kanaloa the southern; Kanaloa points to hidden springs, and Kāne then taps them out. In this way, they represent a divine duality of wild and taming forces like those observed...in Indo-European chief god-pairs like Odin–Tyr and Mitra–Varuna, and like the popular yin–yang of Chinese Taoism. Kanaloa is also considered to be the god of the Underworld and a teacher of magic...however, depictions of Kanaloa as a god of evil, death, or the Underworld, in conflict with good deities like Kāne (a reading that contradicts Kanaloa and Kāne's paired invocations and shared devotees in Ancient Hawaii) are likely the result of European missionary efforts to recast the four major divinities of Hawaiʻi in the image of the Christian Trinity plus Satan. In traditional, pre-contact Hawaiʻi, it was Milu who was the god of the Underworld and death, not Kanaloa; the related Miru traditions of other Polynesian cultures confirms this."

invisible force

by maggie plummer c2007 maggie plummer

part one

kanaloa,

god of the sea,

teaching respect,

ancient deity,

ocean god,

hawaiian power,

seductive water,

waves that tower.

one of four

the old ones knew

in chants, in worship,

in legends that grew

about the deep

and those who died —

his heaving breaths

create the tide.

the ocean god

sits at the helm

where spirits jump off

and into his realm.

invisible might,

underworld lord,

guiding the currents

and riptides and roar,

pulling you, sucking you

into his world

of spirit and magic

and myth unfurled.

creator of springs

and waters anew —

gaze into his eye

so round, so true.

navigating

by the stars,

the moon, the tide,

venus, mars.

this god can heal

with peaceful rule,

unlocking the core

inside of you.

silent center,

deepest ocean,

infinity,

profound emotion.

but kanaloa

can also raze —

formidable strength

can strike, can daze.

and so beware:

his energy

calls for balance

and harmony.

part two

of fairy tale beauty

is kaua’i,

from mountain swampland

to canyons dry,

so lush, so green,

the oldest isle,

this is the one

with rustic style,

with sacred river

and temples broken

and weeping crater

where spirits have spoken.

thousands of feet

the falls cascade

from pool to pool,

a rainbow glade

and everywhere

wild roosters scurry,

the only ones

in a hurry,

and gentle rains

and zebra doves

and suntanned surfers

with their loves

and streams and beaches,

sunset glow,

and high winter swell

with undertow.

turquoise wave tips,

frothy mist,

raging surf,

the cliffs get kissed.

razor sharp

na pali ridges,

sea caves carved

and natural bridges.

make it gorgeous,

says kanaloa,

with flowers and breezes,

pacific aloha.

come in, come in,

the sea god croons,

play in my surf,

in my lagoons

and visitors,

intoxicated

by warmth, by sun,

by beauty sated

a sea so blue,

temptingly clear,

they dive right in,

they have no fear.

and so they go,

the unaware,

without a clue,

without a care

that down beneath,

in salty lair,

reclines the god

with strength to spare.

enchanted strength,

giant, vast,

springing, leaping,

spraying blast,

and kanaloa,

heaving, blowing,

dragging, puffing,

danger growing,

inhale, exhale,

groaning spout,

he’ll slam them down

and sweep them out,

or knock them off

the rocks and then

they never will

be seen again.

or maybe not,

you never know,

he might release them,

let them go

just in time

to gulp, to gasp

for air, for life,

escape his grasp.

with pounding heart

they reach the land

and lie exhausted

on the sand

and thank their god

for one more chance

to breathe, to learn,

to grow, to dance.

part three

the water god

presides supreme

over earth and time,

a primal dream.

he takes it back,

grain by grain,

he knows it’s his

unlimited reign.

lava shaped

by streams and falls,

by violent pounding

of breakers and squalls,

reclaiming the island,

grinding it down,

olden volcano

to gradually drown.

they call it “mana,”

the gods’ true force,

protecting the people,

the life, the source,

and kanaloa

must not be ignored,

pay attention,

his lessons hoard —

lessons of patience

and understanding,

humility gained,

respect expanding.

a peach of a pooch

2012-02-12T11:26:00.002-07:00

Today I think I'll share some photos of my pup Peaches, who had a very rough beginning in life but is now nice and comfortable here at my house. At the moment she is sprawled out on the sofa, sound asleep and surrounded by half-chewed bones. She grew up in the Mission Valley Animal Shelter, having been abandoned with her littermates at a terribly young age. When I happened upon her at the shelter in June 2010, she was seven months old and had been there since December 2009. They had named her Sweet Pea. I knew that name would never roll off my tongue and I would end up calling her "pea"...nawwwwwww. so I named her Sweet Peaches instead, partly cuz she is a peach but also because of her little peach-colored eyebrows. She still has her anxiety issues at times, but is doing so well these days. As the two of us laze around the living room, it's snowing out again today and I'm remembering the many fun times we have already shared.

rocky raccoon! and other critters

2012-02-10T16:53:00.001-07:00

I should be working on my novel, but here I am goofing off instead. Last night, it was just after dark when I drove home from a friend's house. I turned into my driveway and there was this huge raccoon staring into the headlights. The critter raced away into the dark and my black lab Peaches was very excited. I've lived in this house for more than 20 years and this is the first time I've ever seen a raccoon here. Now, Peaches is a super-good, gentle girl, but she bolted out of the car hellbent for the coon. I wasn't sure how dangerous this coon might be for her so I called her back and, excellent lab that she is, she came to me. What a sweetheart!

So this morning I looked into how dangerous a raccoon can be for a big dog. I found some information at http://www.pedigreedatabase.com/ where someone calling himself or herself EuroShepherd wrote that racoons can, indeed, be dangerous for dogs and even people. One of the main points was that many raccoons carry diseases that can be fatal for a pet. Yikes, huh?

I've also been enjoying our snowy owls, above town. How many places can you say this about: on my way to the dump with my garbage cans, I spotted seven gorgeous snowy owls perched on rooftops, rock piles, fence posts, radio towers, and water towers. No, really, I did, and I was taking garbage to the dump. Cruised by SUVs from New Mexico and Washington, and from all over Montana. Here's a link, so you can read more about it if you want to:

http://www.wcsh6.com/news/watercooler/article/187747/108/Snowy-owls-draw-visitors-to-small-Montana-town

I love this article, too, by Ali Bronsdon of the local paper. I think she got the best snowy owl photo yet! Here you go, enjoy:

http://www.leaderadvertiser.com/news/article_5e8f0118-3ccf-11e1-80aa-0019bb2963f4.html

Off the Rack: off the charts!

2012-02-05T15:50:00.001-07:00

Here it is Superbowl Sunday and it's almost game time. I'm glad I'm so tired today -- too tired to worry about going anywhere for the game. All I do is check out the commercials and the half-time show anyway, like so many others do but refuse to admit it. Oh, and now? Leaking the Superbowl ads days before the game? What??? Is nothing sacred? Can we non-football-obsessed types have nothing left?

Anyhow, why am I tired? Well, yesterday I hung out for almost 12 hours, till the wee hours, with friends trekking down to Missoula for the 2012 Off the Rack Fashion Show. It was my first. It won't be my last, I swear! No matter how lazy and old and winterfied I feel, I vow to make it back to that show again and again. I haven't laughed that hard in so long. Almost peed my pants at some of the raunchy, absurd, random, outrageous talent in the show.

In 2008 Missoula's Blue Mountain Clinic launched Off the Rack as their signature annual fundraiser. Blue Mountain Clinic is the area's premier clinic for sexual and reproductive health care. They have been providing first trimester abortion care for more than 30 years. Needless to say, the clinic is a treasured resource for women throughout western Montana.

On their web site, the folks at Blue Mountain Clinic describe Off the Rack like this: "...a fashion show that stretches beyond the barriers of gender and stigma with outfits that represent a theme of healthy sexuality. How do these fashion items create dialogue about healthy sexuality? Many of the artwear items are made out of condoms and other alternative textile materials. By combining humor, art, and latex Off the Rack creates community conversation and a fashion show like no other. Local artists generously donate their creativity to making the bras, dresses, suits, ties and other ensembles that make Off the Rack possible. Each February models wearing these creations take to the runway in the Wilma Theatre for the hottest fashion show in town."

No kidding. The "Condom Miranda" who was a seriously talented belly dancer was one of my favorites. Then there were the comediennes celebrating body hair in unprecedented ways. And some of the dancers were mesmerizing. For a foggy-brained, cabin-fevered Polsonite it was a huge breath of freshly irreverent air. The beer-swilling audience at the good old Wilma was a big part of the show. Here's to Missoula! You rock, and so does my sweet buddy Cheryl for encouraging me to go...

Snowy and Sleepy and Simple

2012-01-19T15:31:00.001-07:00

It's snowing and snowing here in Polson, Montana. It just keeps coming, now that it's finally here. The thick cloud cover rolls in and stays as we slide into icy times.

I think Polson is bi-polar. Winter sees the town retreat into hibernation, recovering for months after manic summers crammed with tourists, seasonal Flathead Lake people, fireworks, and traffic. Around the 4th of July the crowds pour in and the party is on. By Labor Day things are calmer, and before you know it the streets zip themselves up at 5 p.m.

Last night's gusts out of the north blew off the big lake hard enough to snow me in this morning. By midday, a Good Samaritan in a pickup with a snowplow blade was kind enough to clear my drifted-in driveway. I'm so grateful!

I just got in from running around in all that snow. I love the feeling I have right now, of warming up after being out in the white stuff. I think enjoying these simple things is the key to a good life, especially in small town Montana. You have to love the quiet times of getting in the firewood, making roaring fires, and staring into the flames. Seeing a snowy owl take flight. Being in the backyard right when a wedge of snow geese flies over, low. In the fall, watching hunters cruise through town with dead animals in the beds of their pickups. Listening as people sit around sharing their annual doomsday forecasts about how the coming winter is going to be really bad, a record breaker, and how we're all sitting ducks for an arctic blast disaster. Commiserating with old timers on bar stools who mutter things like, "It's a cold damned sucker out there."

They're right. Out there, it's still coming down. It's hushed and white and slumbering. And beautiful.

in hot water

2012-01-12T12:14:00.001-07:00

Why do people say they're "in hot water," as if that's bad?

I think hot water is my favorite thing -- especially tubs and tubs of super-hot mineral water, like the stuff that's found in the little old town of Hot Springs, Montana. I love it all year, but even more in the winter. I like to hotfoot it over there to soak for hours and hours, with a good book. Putting my pale face in the sun while soaking is the best Cabin Fever Therapy I know of. Even if the sun isn't out, lifting my eyes to the sky, surrounded by that steam....aaah. There is nothing like it.

A recent jaunt over there began nicely. On the way out of town, as I sat waiting to turn onto the highway, there were two big bald eagles perched in the trees by the lake, right in front of me.

When I got to the outdoor soakingplace that I love, I had the entire place to myself. It was mid-morning and the main pool was brimming with clear, steaming, turquoise water. There was a bald eagle perched high in a cottonwood tree next to the soakingarea. He sat there and looked around, silently cocking his head at me now and then. After about 20 minutes, he (or was it a she?) took offin a spectacular flight right over the pool where I was, by then, up to my neckin 104-degree mineral water.

I've been going to that spot to soakfor about 25 years now, and never before had I seen a bald eagle there.

I treasure these Montana moments.

May I always be "in hot water!"

home sweet home

2012-01-08T12:17:00.000-07:00

Ah, it's good to be home, where I can rest and eat as much raw garlic as I want -- to help heal the asthmatic bronchitis I got from the cursed Christmas cold. Of all the times to fly to Colorado and visit family -- at 8,500 feet! Ummm...not great circumstances. Dang. On the other hand, it's always good to be reminded that things like this, while not perfect, are not the end of the world either.

I soaked up a gorgeous, sun-filled week of warmth in the Colorado high country, thanks to cousin Kathy's extreme generosity. Thanks, Kath!

Her vacation home there faces south, over an aspen-filled canyon. I wasn't the only one "gaspin' in the aspen," but we had fun giggling, opening gifts, watching hilarious movies, talking too much, hot tubbing, eating homemade chili con carne, drinking home brew, and snacking on triple-chocolate cake. It was a week of renewed family connections.

I don't know what we would have done without Mike the Sweet Snow Plow Guy, who came to our rescue on New Year's Eve. It was already dark and there we were, fresh from the airport, the SUV crammed to the seams with luggage and groceries. We stared and stared at the snow-filled driveway, the big berm, the drifts. My sister Ginny, who lives in Tucson, is very proud of the fact that SHE was the only one wearing boots and willing to get out there and test the snow. (Good job, Gin!) She discovered that oh hell no, it was not light powder we could drive through. It was layers of crusty, hard ice and snow. So to a neighbor's house we went, made a flurry of phone calls, then waited for Mike the Sweet and Intrepid One. We sat in the cozy car, on that high, narrow, dead-end dirt lane, and broke out the beer. It was New Year's Eve, after all.

Have I ever appreciated getting inside a house as much as I did that night? Probably not.

Have I ever appreciated my home's relatively low elevation and comfortable humidity level as much as I do right now? Probably not.

Will I be leaving the house any time soon? Probably not. I'm still catching my breath!

Send Those Thank-you Notes Now!

2011-12-27T14:09:00.000-07:00

Happy Holiday Hibernation time to all! I have the perfect excuse for extreme hibernation: a nasty cold that reared its rotten head on Christmas Eve, of all days. As usual, the bug just could not wait to hit my cursed, asthmatic lungs. So here I am, holing up, drinking tea, sucking on cough drops, and thinking about writing thank-you notes to Christmas gift-givers. I just sent a couple of those notes on e-mail: is that OK? I hope so, since they were to people with whom I regularly exchange e-mails.

That got me to thinking about thank-you note etiquette or the lack of it. You know, that feeling you get that you're sending gifts out into a Black Hole of Indifference. It really is terrible, the lack of manners these days. I know that makes me sound like an old fuddy-duddy, grumbling about "these young people today..."

But, seriously. I say we take a break from the idiotic Facebook/Twitter/texting compulsions and write some real, honest-to-God thank-you notes. With stamps. Sent through the post office!

It only takes a minute.

According to The Morning News Writer Leslie Harpold, all gifts deserve a thank-you. That means send a note, even if you think the gift is beyond weird. Harpold suggests using blank note cards, or postcards. Among her other tips: greet the gift-giver by name, in black or blue ink; hand-write the note; begin with a simple thank you, and mention the gift specifically -- but if it's money, just say something like "thank you for you generosity;" praise the gift and tell how you'll put it to good use; avoid flowery language and any news that's not related to the gift; thank them again, write "love" or "yours truly," and sign your name; mail it right away, and you're done. See? Didn't that feel good?

Oh, one more tip: if you have a yukky cold like I do, don't let your nose drip on the card.

Farewell, sweet kitty

2011-12-19T10:35:00.000-07:00

My little Christmas gathering went very well. The chili was delicious, the turnout was perfect, and I didn't cry in front of my guests.

Cry? you ask.

Yeah. Cry.

My sweet kitty girlfriend Alicia died at my feet early Friday morning. Losing a pet is always a shock, even when you know she's been living on borrowed time for a while.

When I rescued her in 1994, Alicia was a ragtag six-month-old stray tabby. She quickly became the gorgeous Duchess of our household for almost 18 years. Through those years, she lived with all five of my big dogs. That amazes me.

She was such a good girl. She even did a good job of dying: I appreciate her timing and the fact that she did it herself rather than requiring the always-difficult decision to euthanize. I will miss her talking to me in that soft voice, hergentle nature, and the way she curled the top of her head into my neck as we slept together. I will miss her following me and the dog outside, and following us back in. I already miss herpurr, her silky long hair, and her warm belly on my lap.

Rest peacefully, you Maine Coon beauty.

Alicia

1994 - 2011

short-winded stories: a fun writing exercise

2011-12-13T14:32:00.003-07:00

Here's a fun, challenging writing assignment: write a short story in 99 words. Preferably exactly 99 words. This is a great tool for developing concise, packed writing. Here is a short-winded piece I came up with a few years back as part of a writers' group project. I hope you like it.

Shifting Shadows c Maggie Plummer 2008

Sammy’sheart hiccupped. In the rear-view mirror, tall shadows shifted as headlightbeams again lit the inky black woods behind her.

She grabbedthe pepper spray. These Alfred Hitchcock moments were the down side to herisolated lake cabin at the end of the point, with one way out. She should get aboat.

Only darknessnow.

At thelast fork in the road, she stopped, cut the engine, cracked her window, andlistened.

Nothing.

“WHOOO?”

She jumped at the owl’s sudden call.

“Goodquestion,” she mumbled, feeling ridiculous. Time to get a grip.

Shakingherself, she headed home.

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(I tried to adjust the settings for leaving comments, and hope you can more easily comment on my blogs. Thanks for reading!)

how about a green Christmas?

2011-12-11T13:02:00.001-07:00

It might be almost too late for this post: when it comes to Christmas shopping this year, let's go green!

I love to shop atsecond-hand stores that benefit animal shelters, the Salvation Army, Goodwill, and other organizations. Treasures can be found there and at garage sales, and isn't that the BEST kind of recycling? Also, if you have extraChristmas decorations, why not donate them to your local thrift store, tobenefit the various organizations?

This year let's buy only gifts that have been produced by American workers within a mile or two of home. This is green, too. People enjoy receiving gift certificates for everything from haircuts to massages to meals at your favorite neighborhood restaurant. Buy handmade gifts at holiday bazaars. Throw your holiday party at a nearby, independently owned restaurant and leave a generous tip.

As the freezing winter fog coats the landscape with hoarfrost, I'm dreaming of a white -- and GREEN -- Christmas.

one more thing

2011-12-05T14:06:00.000-07:00

Oh, one more thing. Here, below, is a link to the funniest blog about Christmas letters! enjoy...

http://catchthewindow.blogspot.com/2011/11/real-christmas-letter.html

oh, the dreaded Christmas letter

2011-12-05T13:29:00.000-07:00

Here it is, time to write a Christmas letter. How about, instead of the all-too-common bragsheet, we assemble a list of Favorite Truths about the year we've just had? I like the idea of writing a Christmas letter as a Dave Letterman-style Top 10 list. What are the 10 most interesting things that happened to you this year? The most humorous? The most ludicrous?

Let's see what mine will look like:

Top 10 Things I Am Proud Of This Year

10. I have not had a heart attack. (I know, I know, that's not funny, blah blah blah...but the first Christmas card I received, just this week, is from an Irish friend who wrote that she suffered a heart attack in August. Therefore, I feel the need to celebrate the fact that I have not had a heart attack, in spite of being woefully obese. So there!)

9. I turned 60 and actually had fun doing it.

8. I have NOT tripped over my 17-and-a-half-year-old cat, who this year has gone pretty much completely blind and as a result is more underfoot all the time.

7. I have been eating more raw vegetables.

6. I lost some weight. (I'm not sure if I have kept it off, because I have been procrastinating about getting back on the scale to check.)

5. I edited my first book manuscripts. (My hope is to become an at-home freelance editor with a steady stream of work.)

4. I got better at keeping things simple.

3. I finished the first draft of my historical novel, which I am calling "Spirited Away - A Novel of the Stolen Irish." (Now I am revising and revising, to make it better and better.)

2. I started this blog.

1. I managed to enjoy a "winter vacation" in early 2011, during which an arctic snap in Tucson, Arizona killed much of the desert vegetation when the temperature hovered around 16 degrees F; but right then I was over in southern New Mexico, checking out a hot springs town where the temperature hit 6 below zero F for several days; I am proud of my amazingly weird timing and my ability to be entertained by life-threatening power outages, broken pipes, and shut-down hot springs resorts.

So, what do you think?

battling racism never ends

2011-12-05T12:06:00.000-07:00

I just viewed this article, link below, about the valley north of us.
http://hereandnow.wbur.org/2011/12/05/montanas-flathead-extremist

It's been a while since I've heard about white supremacists on the move here in wonderful Montana, where the people I know are neither racist nor extreme.

I wish people would study Montana's history and see that the state actually has an interesting record. For example, this state elected the nation's first woman legislator, Jeannette Rankin, who was a dedicated peace activist. She was so committed to the anti-war cause, she voted against the U.S. getting involved in World War II, even after Pearl Harbor. She came very close to being attacked by a mob for her lonely stance against that war. In her hometown of Missoula, Montana, there is a great group that memorializes her spirit. Here is a link for them:

http://jrpc.org/

Have a peaceful, open-minded, hopeful day!

A Light Gone Dark

2011-11-25T15:55:00.000-07:00

Here it is Hyper Black Friday. As usual I am enjoying staying in and making sure I buy absolutely nothing all day long. Aaaah.

As the Christmas season approaches, I am remembering the holidays 11 years ago. It was our first Christmas without Dad, who had died in July. What is it about the holidays anyway? Especially one's first holiday season after losing a loved one?

I wrote the poem below, which my mom really liked. I hope you will, too!

A Light Gone Dark c2000 Maggie Plummer

by Maggie Plummer

Our Christmas lights that shine this year

Are dimmer now, no doubt.

The strong, bright star atop our tree

Has flickered and gone out.

The hot, white gleam that was the star,

That led us through the days—

His fire darkened from afar

By murky winter haze.

A chilly haze, the haze of time

The haze of growing old.

A dense and gray and foggy clime

Of illness and of cold.

It’s all OK, I know, I know

We’re really doing fine.

But it’s a void, a hole, a blow,

A black spot on the pine.

The spot was full this time last year

Of spirit and of heat.

The energetic star, no fear,

Burned high, the world to greet.

He was tough, but he was great

At channeling his powers—

At Christmastime he would create

The magic that was ours.

And so we face the holidays

Without his energy.

Without his eager, laughing ways

That mean Christmas to me.

But out there in some distant place

The star is shining still.

Merging streams of light in space

A cosmic joy, a thrill.

sunday morning thoughts

2011-11-20T09:36:00.000-07:00

well, the snow is still falling but the wind has stopped.

but that's not really what I am thinking about. I am thinking about a friend's out of control alcoholism.

here are my thoughts:
I am going to tell her that I no longer want to be around her when she is drunk/abusive;
I am going to tell her that if she does not get help by the end of the year I am going to walk away from this friendship;
I am going to stick to it;
I am hoping enough of her friends will do the same thing, to help her confront her problem;
I am thinking about making a list of all the abusive things she has said to me during the past year;
and
by doing all of these things,
I am going to put my own mental health, my self-esteem, first not last.

a bold move and a wacky morning

2011-11-18T15:19:00.000-07:00

I made a bold move this week and once I was done I felt like I was going to burst if I didn't tell someone! I opened a bottle of wine and had a glass, got on the phone, and later burned non-essential timeshare papers in the wood stove.

I walked away, officially, from a timeshare based in Cabo San Lucas. That thing has driven be NUTS for so long. It was called a "voluntary surrender" of the timeshare, and I'm (hopefully!) now out from under the increasingly hefty maintenance fees, exchange network dues, and so on. Blick! It is scary, turning my back on the investment in this timeshare. Yikes.

But looking at it, I figure I would spend at least as much in the future, paying the damned fees and so on, plus the airfare which I can't afford any more, plus going to Mexico is just not in the cards for now...I just hope the timeshare company will play fair and not try to squeeze another maintenance fee ($600!) out of me by claiming that my paperwork was late or some other excuse...these #$%$#@# will do anything, I swear, to get more $$$ out of a person. I did the best I could to leave a clear paper trail that would prove I did what the timeshare company told me I had to do, and that I was on time. I kept copies of the fax receipt, sent the hard copy by certified mail, that kind of thing.

I am proud of myself! I assume that that's the end of it. Time will tell.

My advice to anyone who has been, like me, going crazy from an expensive timeshare they can no longer afford: take the bull by the horns, plan ahead so that you're not past due in your payments, and call the people who bill you for the maintenance fee. Explain that you must surrender the timeshare, and then talk to the ones they transfer the call to. I have also read that there is something called a "deed in-lieu-of mortgage" form, for people who are current on their timeshare payments but are ready to get out from under the thing.

Today the weather here in western Montana is pretty bad: blowing and drifting snow. I am so glad that I don't have to leave the house.

Yesterday a friend gave me the CD of Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" album, so this morning I put it on the stereo and cranked it up so loud that my poor doggie got upset and I had to put her out in the backyard. Then I rocked out to Pink Floyd while pedalling on my exercise bike and watching the white stuff streak by the window. I was trying to think of where I was when I first heard that amazing album! I have no idea, hmmm. Does anyone remember where they were when they first heard that album? Wouldn't it be great to choreograph a "rock ballet" to that thing?

(sorry readers are having trouble leaving comments on here...I will try to work on that, but at this point I don't know how...)

“Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus”

2011-11-14T17:54:00.000-07:00

By Maggie Plummer

When my sister Virginia went to the Arizona Mayo Clinic Transplant Center in early November 2009, it was supposed to be for a week of screening tests. The idea was to get placed on the center’s liver transplant list, then go home to Tucson to wait for her surgery.

But life takes its own twists in the road.

My sister’s severe cirrhosis of the liver took a major turn for the worse while she and her husband David were in Phoenix. She was admitted to the Mayo Clinic Hospital’s Critical Care Unit. I feel certain that if she had been anywhere else, Ginny would not be alive today. (As an adult she uses the name Virginia, but to me she will always be Ginny.)

My hat is off to so many: the Mayo Clinic Hospital team who saved my sister’s life, especially David C. Mulligan, M.D.; Ginny’s husband David, who took loving care of her during many months of illness; and our youngest sister Liz, who selflessly travelled to Arizona from Colorado and stepped up as Ginny’s primary caregiver for more than a month following the surgery.

I am indebted to Dr. Mulligan, not only because of his skill as a liver transplant surgeon and his willingness to operate on my sister despite complications and her appallingly high mortality risk (MELD score). I am also grateful to him for his warm, confidence-inducing manner. When the transplant team told Ginny that her surgery would be very high risk due to an earlier, botched procedure (performed at a different hospital), she wept. She told me that Dr. Mulligan simply smiled at her and said, “I like a challenge.” We affectionately call him “Doctor Likes-a-Challenge.”

He is our hero. He probably realizes how profound such a moment is for a gravely ill patient. What’s more, his reassuring, compassionate words that day echoed and rippled through our large, anxiety-ridden family via telephone. Those words of Dr. Mulligan’s inspired us. We needed that.

For me, that inspiration meant finally accepting the fact that I might lose my beloved sister. At last I knew that she was in the very best hands and nothing more could be done. I felt that even if Ginny died, everyone at the Arizona Mayo Clinic Hospital had done so much for her I would be thankful to them forever. Their teamwork is powerful. As perilously ill as she was, she sounded more peaceful and upbeat while in that hospital than she had for months.

She spent her 53^rd birthday there, praying for a liver. Our family and everyone in our lives prayed with her. Those birthday prayers were not answered, even though she was number one on the liver transplant list. Through weeks of facing one medical hurdle after another, Ginny never gave up. Maybe it was sheer stubbornness that helped her survive her liver and kidneys shutting down, her lungs filling with fluid, and one lung threatening to collapse. She was on and off the active liver transplant list due to a harrowing maze of complications.

On Thanksgiving Day, within hours of being re-activated on the transplant list, Ginny got the exciting news that there was a compatible liver available and her surgery would take place the next morning. We were beside ourselves.

“They rarely do this surgery on a person with such a terribly high ‘MELD’ score,” Liz says. “I wonder who made the decision to go ahead with the transplant: a committee? Dr. Mulligan? And why? Because they saw something special about Ginny? Or because Dr. Mulligan is, after all, Dr. Likes-a-Challenge?”

We will probably never get answers to these questions. That’s OK. We’re ecstatic with the miracle of Ginny’s life-giving transplant. As I write this, she is healing beautifully and getting stronger every day. She is grateful beyond words for this chance to embark on a new chapter of her life.

She was within two days of dying when she got her liver. One doctor recently told her that from day to day they never knew if she would still be alive. A nurse said that she had more inner strength than any patient she’d ever seen. “What choice did I have?” Ginny says. She is a real fighter whose positive attitude served her well.

My sister went home to Tucson on Christmas Day.

It brings to mind the famous 1897 New York Sun editorial by newsman Francis Pharcellus Church. “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” he wrote. “He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy…”

There is, indeed, a Santa Claus. He lives in the Mayo Clinic’s spirit of dedication and caring.

(Maggie's note: this month is the two-year anniversary of my sister's liver transplant. We still cannot believe it!)