Bags, redux

Some time ago, I wrote about the struggle I was having remembering to take my reusable bags into the store with me. I'm happy to report that 18 months later, I rarely have to do an about-face in the parking lot to march back to the car for the bags.

The west coast has a reputation for being at the forefront of environmental issues, so I was surprised to learn Seattle just voted down a referendum that would have charged shoppers 20 cents per plastic or paper disposable bag.

The fee idea was based on Ireland's PlasTax, which, according to an article posted on the Environmental News Network's website, reduced plastic bag consumption there by more than 90%.

I remember the first time I ran into this concept - it was years ago during G's and my courtship. I was visiting him in the Netherlands, and we went grocery shopping. G made sure to bring some sturdy bags from home. He explained that if he didn't bring his own bags to the grocery store, he would have to buy their heavy reusable plastic bags for 25 cents each.

It's funny how this idea struck me: I didn't consider the conservation aspect. What came first to my mind was how inefficient the system seemed, trying to get every shopper to bring their own bags. And then how with all the different shapes and sizes of the bags G brought, the bagged groceries didn't look orderly: in the grocery cart, in the car trunk, and then on the kitchen counter, there was a disturbing untidiness to them. (Looking back, a pretty nutty thought.) And last, a bit of disbelief, that something we got for free in the U.S., the Dutch had to pay for.

Now, of course, I know that those Dutch were pretty smart after all.

Stargazers

Photo by Kevin Clifford, AP, from National Geographic

Tonight is the peak of the Perseid meteor showers.

And tonight I have a new friend
who walked down the hill with me to the park
to get a good view of the shooting stars over the big pond.

Oscar is five years old, very sweet-tempered,
and a welcome addition to our household.

G has never been willing to go out to see the shooting stars.

Oscar didn't complain a bit.

Our Quincy

We have had to say good-bye to our Quincy, and we are grieving.

He came into our lives five years ago.

After G was diagnosed with dementia a little over five years ago, I started reading and researching what we could do to help us fight this disease. Having a pet was one of the themes that kept recurring, but I resisted. G has always loved dogs, where I am not a natural dog lover. But after a trip to see G's daughters in the Netherlands and seeing the pleasure G got from their dogs, I thought adopting a dog was something we needed to do.


It was so very much the right thing for us to do. What a joy Quincy has been for us. He brought us so much laughter and happiness. I know that G's health was positively affected by having Quincy in our family. But even if it hadn't been, Quincy was a constant source of comfort and reassurance. He loved to be with us and always had a bark or a tail wag ready when we needed it. He had his quirky ways and little eccentricities that endeared him even more to us.

For the last several years, Quincy has had a number of serious health problems, and he always managed to battle back from them. He was a source of inspiration for us, and I often would point out to G that if Quincy could keep trying, so could he. Gradually, and especially over the last months, Quincy's health grew worse, and his recoveries grew more difficult.

We never knew how old Quincy was - 12? 14? - as he was a stray that someone had found and brought to the shelter. And we knew nothing of what kind of life he had before we began to love him. But we know what kind of life he had with us, and we are so grateful for the five years we were together.

Bliss

The hammock is finally up at my parents' cottage.

It's at the edge of the yard, near the woods,
partly enclosed by leafy greenness.

Feel like opening your eyes? This is your view of the overhanging trees,
with bits of sky and flashes of sun as the wind moves through the branches.

Feeling really ambitious?
Lift your head just a little, and behold the blue waters.

Happy 4th of July.
I'm very thankful to live in peace and freedom.

Floral therapy

Rose mallow, white yarrow, creeping bellflower,
daisies, and wood aster foliage
in "Derby Posies" vase

The bouquet I put together last Sunday is much smaller than the previous weeks' arrangements, but I still like it.

Our friend Carolyn, who used to be G's cognitive therapy teacher, came over for lunch on Monday. We hadn't seen her since last October, when G had to give up the cognitive class because of some pain problems which knocked him out of his regular activities. Just two months ago, Carolyn's daughter and 11-year-old granddaughter were hit by a drunk driver and killed.

We talked about how Carolyn and the rest of her family are coping; how difficult it is to grasp such a horrific loss.

When we sat down at the table for lunch, Carolyn exclaimed over the flowers. It turns out that she is putting in a memorial perennial garden at her other daughter's new townhouse and is learning about different flower varieties as she goes. We talked about what she has put in, and what I have that might suit the new garden.

And now some of the flowers in my garden will have a new home in "Pam's garden," and that makes me feel very very good.

Life imitates art

G and I were driving the other day
and noticing the dramatic sky and roiling clouds ahead of us.

"Your sister could have painted that," he said.

He's right, of course, and the proof is hanging in our dining room.

My older sister Carlie is an artist, and this is one of her works.
G has always loved it.
It reminds him of how the sky often looks in his homeland,
the Netherlands.

Out of order

I started the dishwasher last night and headed up to bed.

A few minutes later I came back downstairs
and stepped in a big puddle of water. Argh!

So I stopped the dishwasher and then noticed
a very faint odor of burning.
Double Argh!

After mopping up the water,
I went to bed.

This morning, my first task was to empty the dishwasher of all the dirty dishes
(it couldn't have broken at the end of the cycle?) and wash them.
It's been a long time since I've washed that many dishes all at once.

After I got to work this morning, my boss called to say
his vehicle had broken down last night on the expressway.

In rush hour traffic.

In a construction zone.

Which caused a five mile back-up.

Now I don't feel so bad about my dishwasher.
At least I didn't have a five mile back-up of dirty dishes.