Day: December 20, 2011

 

We went out to dinner with a friend, and I asked Maria if she believed me when I said I was on her computer to download some Christmas music from ITunes. “No,” she said, “not for a minute.” Okay, I thought, well that didn’t really fly, so I said, smoothly, then what on earth did she think I was doing fiddling with her computer? “I can’t imagine,” she said.

Okay, so I shifted gears again and we got to talking about her plans for making potholders and fiberart next year, and that is very much where her head is. We talked about spending a few days wandering around Brooklyn. I told her I didn’t think we should bring any computers or cameras, and she lit up at that, saying it would be good and restful for both of us. All we had to concentrate on was being with my daughter Emma, hanging out together, finding some good restaurants, walking through Brooklyn neighborhoods, reading the very good books we have.

So it stands here. She knows I’m up to something, but not what. She said, walking to the restaurant, “you know, you don’t need to buy me any presents,” and I said, “sure, I know that.” And then she just looked at me. I think she knows I’m doing something but has no inkling of what. I’ll keep talking about art and Brooklyn. I’ll slip the gift into my luggage, which has some compartments she will not go into. And as I don’t need her computer or passwords anymore, I’m betting she will forget about it. I learned as a reporter that if you convince yourself of something, other people will believe it.

 

Pray for us. Next Wednesday, for the first time in her life, Frieda is getting groomed. Eileen Quackenbush of Muddy Paws, Shushan, N.Y., says she is game,and I am going with Frieda. She gets a bath at 10:15 Wednesday and a brushing and toenail trimming. I think she is ready. Eileen is a wonderful groomer, loving and confident. I will take the Ipad and post running accounts, and take photos of course. Frieda has put several vets to the wall, but never harmed anyone,and I think she is a creampuff. At heart. Can’t wait. Maria may or not come, depending on her mood. She says seeing Frieda in those situations makes her nervous. Me too. Stay tuned. A first. And Frieda needs a grooming and brushing too. Stinky dog.

 

I am turning my full obsessive attention on Christmas, heading to NYC Friday. I love giving technology to creative people and seeing it light them up. I’ve got something for my daughter, and I bought a sweet piece of technology for Maria. I have a wife who buys nothing for herself, says she needs and wants nothing, and generally spends nothing, a marked contrast to me. So I love giving her stuff.

She will yell at me, but, I think, love the gift. And she can really use it. I’m giving it to her on Christmas morning in NYC.

Step One: I’ve told her I’m not blogging until after Christmas, and she is not devious like me, so I think she won’t look at my site until then. So I can share this story.

Step Two: I need her online info and passwords to set up the new gift, so I’ve been collecting them secretly for weeks, under the guise of organizing her laptop a bit (she is not interested in the internal operations of computing, and neither, really, and I). So far so good.

Step Three: I needed an hour or so with her laptop (some of you may already be guessing this gift. say nothing, and she surprised me by coming home early and nearly walking in on me. I had to yell “wait, I need some time along with your computer,” and so, as you can imagine, she got suspicious. I thought quickly and told her that I was downloading a Christmas song for her from Itunes. She bought it for a moment, I think, but not really. She is suspicious.

Step Four: I have been dropping false clues all over the place, asking her her shirt and shoe and neck size. Distracting her a bit.

Step Four: I saved some old bags from Target and put the gift in that, so that might also throw her off.

Step Five. I have to get this onto the train to NYC and hide it in a hotel for a couple of days. I taped it so she won’t open it, I am sure. She is not naturally suspicious, but knows my mind too well. I’ll keep you posted.

I love this stuff. Say nothing.

I am excited about Christmas Week. I got Maria a great present I am working to hide from her. She is razor-sharp and misses nothing and reads me very easily, so she is watching me, but I have hidden the present and will fool her, I believe. We are both very excited to be going to Brooklyn to visit my daughter Emma. We’re staying in Brooklyn, and plan to hit the Brooklyn Museum. We have scoped out a bunch of great restaurant possibilities, using some great Brooklyn Restaurant Ipad apps (Latin American and Asian, looks like) and will be seeing “Tinker, Sailor, Soldier, Spy,” with Em and her boyfriend. We expect to wear out some shoes exploring the world’s hippest and most interesting real estate. The blog will be quiet for a few days around the weekend. No cameras, no computers. Just my wife and my daughter. How sweet is that?

Grief draws a crowd,and when you lose something you love, there is a natural impulse  among kind people to reach out. This one was a bit overwhelming, as the e-mail has passed the 3,000 mark and still coming in. I see several different kinds of people present themselves. The first and largest group present their sympathies and let you know they are thinking of you. The second group presents their sympathies and then presents their own losses in exchange for yours. The third group seems very drawn to grieving, and it is not clear to me whether they are responding to my grief or their own.  They urge me to keep on grieving.

I am not comfortable defining my life by grief and loss. I was much comforted by many of the messages I received and learned quite a bit about me, Rose and this community. It matters to get support. It matters to get comfort. It matters to know that grieving for a dog is worthwhile and important. And it matters to move on, when you can. I will never forget Rose, but I am ready to move forward, to celebrate my life, to celebrate Christmas with my wife and daughter, to explore Brooklyn, to get away from the farm for a few days. So I am into Christmas mode now, excited about the presents I am giving, mulling over the presents I need to think of still.

Christmas has always been an important holiday for me, a time of connection and redemption. I want to focus on the meaning and feeling of it. I thank you for the messages, they were valuable and helpful, but I am not in need of more. I am not in grief or mourning. I am busy hiding my present, and thinking of ways to trick Maria into thinking it is something else.

 

The Big Shot has been with me a long time. He has spent a lot of money, given away a lot of things, often reminded me that I was somehow apart from the daily tasks of living. You are a big deal, he would whisper to me. You don’t have to worry about bills, and you can give things away. The Big Shot was very generous, and above many of life’s small tasks. He used to be driven to work in a limo, in a place long ago and far away. He never need to look at bank accounts, or consider many of the things he did. He had all kinds of things – tractors, five winter parkas – cows, steers, goats, that he didn’t need.  He was surrounded by a small army of enablers, aides, workers to help him life his life. He never returned things that didn’t fit. He never used coupons, or looked at prices, or shopped for bargains. He never looked at receipts to see if things were added up properly.

Today, I officially said goodbye to the Big Shot. In a ceremony out behind the big barn.The donkeys all gathered around, and I said, “Hey Big Shot, I think we need to part company. You and Herman, my scary voice in the night, who hasn’t been around the last few months at all. I see that I can not only live without you guys, but I can also make you go away, if I do the hard work. So get lost!” Big Shot was stunned, outraged, cursing and spitting out his cigar. He will hang around a bit, on the off chance I will change my mind, but he will be good soon enough. Good riddance.

I like life without the Big Shot. I check my bank account, write my own checks, look for bargains. I still give things away, but they are smaller, more appropriate things. I still don’t check receipts because I generally prefer to trust people. I got rid the tractors, trucks, extra parkas, and the many other things I don’t need and can’t afford. I don’t feel like a Big Shot anymore, and am not too big to tend to the daily tasks of life. I much look forward to the day when I can do my own mowing. The enablers are all gone. I return things, and shop online for the lowest price sometimes. Often. I think many of us create characters to help us life our lives, sometimes in drama and crisis, sometimes in chaos. It took me a long time to get rid of the Big Shot. Big Shots are not helpful, I think. They breed fear and anxiety, because they hide life, and  if you don’t know who you are, you cannot be who you want to be.