Hassled by the Man

I know that the above title is silly, but it describes how I feel in a fairly accurate way. Lately, my view of the way the police around here operate has become a bit soured, and since venting usually helps me to feel a little better, I'm venting now.

Recently, my husband and I were visited by a local detective claiming that my husband was seen by a woman at a nearby golf course stealing practice mats (whatever those are). Apparently, when N went to the course to practice about three weeks ago, said woman called the police and related to them that he looked like someone she saw leaving the scene of a crime that was committed at the course (or something like that-I have not been privy to the top secret elements of the case). While they apparently did not approach my husband that day at the course, they did see fit to visit our home a short while later, thus ruining my afternoon and leading me to wonder how practice mats could pose such a big deal as to waste so much of the taxpayers' money. I understand that leads must be followed, etc., but the way this detective was going on and on one might have been lead to believe the things were undercoated in gold. Once I managed to obtain enough information from the officer to understand exactly what he was telling me, I realized that my husband was with me, our daughter, and his cousins from Germany on the day in question. The whole day. I related the details of the day to the detective, but his desire is that we produce some sort of receipts for the places we visited. To date, I have yet to recover any receipts-quite vexing as my husband usually leaves receipts for anything and everything all over the house. In spite of my searching, however, I have come up dry and frustrated and wondering what is going to transpire next. Obviously, this woman did not see my husband steal anything, nor did she see him at the golf course on the day the real perpetrator lifted the apparently coveted practice mats from the country club. Rather, she saw somebody who looks similar to my husband, driving a truck that looks similar to his. The truck my husband drives is one of the more popular models; there are many grey trucks on the road of this particular model and make. I have actually seen such a truck being driven by a man who looks similar to my husband driving around town, but I declined relating this to the cop as it sounds a bit too convenient, even if it is true.

This incident has left me wondering how many other people have been wrongly accused and even arrested for acts they did not commit, simply because someone was sure they saw them at some particular scene. It is extremely frightening to me that a person could be harassed in this way simply on the word of a person who obviously is not sure what or who she saw. The fact (as related to me by the officer) is that they don't have anyone else to bother, so they are running wild with a bad lead. It doesn't matter that I have a time stamped photograph of my husband someplace else on the afternoon of the day in question, or that I can account for him being with me for every hour of that day, nor does it matter that these mysterious practice mats were not located anywhere on our property. I'm lead to wonder if I'm going to need to do my own detective work, perusing pawn shops to find out if anyone has pawned the things and, if so, whether video cameras will reveal the actual thief. I also wonder who's out there catching the real bad guys, and how many other people are in the midst of being knee deep in a sand trap not of their own making due to the bad reporting of some overzealous employee.

And Tiger thought he had problems.

No More Scouts?

I received word today that our Spiral Scouts group, which hasn't been very active as of late, might be coming to an end. This saddens me; it's been nice to be in such a group, around other Pagan parents. It was good for my little one to be around the other kids and provided her with a fun outlet in the midst of our homeschooling routine. There is the option of someone else taking over the group, but I'm not sure I'm up for the task. I have so much on my proverbial plate right now and, since our group has not been very active to begin with, I'm not sure I will have the time needed to kick the group into gear. So, I'll have to wait and see what happens!

A Girl and Her Dog

About a year ago, my husband and I decided it was time to get a dog. We had the house with the fenced in yard, the small child, the cozy family setting; all that was missing was a canine companion. While this began as a rather benign endeavor, the search for a pet became the basis for some of the only real battles my husband have ever had with one another. We argued about where we would adopt a dog from (I had dreams of adopting some poor unloved dog from the animal shelter, while my husband wanted to go straight to a breeder), where the dog would live (I said inside, he said outside-I was not willing to budge on this issue), what the dog's role would be in our lives. Some of these arguments became quite heated, but finally we agreed on a particular breeder (I liked the family who raises the dogs as they seemed to truly care about them and love them, and had many of their own) and began the search. In the midst of this chaos, a close friend advised me that my husband and I wanted a dog in our lives for different reasons. She'd observed a need in my soul that nobody else could fill. For my husband, the main reasons were protection of our home and child. I wanted the dog for these reasons as well, but there was something deeper at play here. I needed a canine companion for the sort of friendship one only enjoys with a dog. I'm not even sure I realized how true this was, or in what ways, until he came into our lives, all ears and paws. What I do know is that at some point, I gave in to the Universe and said a little prayer to the Goddess, asking her to bring us the dog we were supposed to have in our lives.

Sweet, beautiful Bacchus!!! He offers me love even if I'm grumpy and tired and unsociable to anyone else. He wakes me up in the morning with wet nose nudges and slurpy kisses at our bedside. Occasionally, he nibbles on toys and shoes and pieces of the wall that he isn't supposed to eat, but looking into those soulful brown eyes I can't stay upset with him for very long. I understand that he has doggie needs and instincts, just as he seems to understand that I have people ones which are sometimes equally as unpleasant. He has taught me that sometimes staying in the moment is the best way to live, that savoring the little things in life can bring one great joy and peace. Take today, for instance.

The news was a sea of sadness, with a few happy events peppered here and there like small beacons too tiny to bring light to the rest of this vast, dark ocean. School violence, domestic murder (as I type, two husbands stand accused of murdering their wives and a young girl lies in a hospital bed with possible brain damage because she was assaulted at school by another student), and more foolish educational bills were just a few of today's topics. So, when N decided to take Little One to the beach for an ice cream, I made the decision to take Bacchus for a long walk someplace we haven't wandered before. No sooner was the front door firmly closed and my little family on the road, when I looked at my big white dog and said the magic words,"Do you want to go for a walk, little boy?" Of course, what he heard probably sounded something like the teacher in those Charlie Brown cartoons: "Wha wha wha wha wah walk wah wah?" It doesn't matter. At the sound of the word "walk", he cocked his head to the side like he does when I've said something to grab his curiosity, then jumped up from his spot in the kitchen and bounded over to me. I quick buckle of the leash and out the door we went, happily wandering. When we were out there on the street, I wasn't thinking about much of anything other than how happy he seemed to be, how brightly the sun was shining, how wonderful the breeze felt on my face and in my hair. For just a little while, life was only about whatever patch of road we were standing at, whatever sights we were taking in. Dogs have a way of making us feel grateful, of helping us to realize that when we do something good for someone else (in this case, him) we also enjoy the benefit of feeling good, sometimes of feeling great.

In Celtic mythology, white animals appear often in a mystical context. Sometimes they are ferocious (as in a white boar), sometimes they are tragic (as in the story of King Lear and the Swans), sometimes they are gentle and beautiful, sometimes they are powerful. For this Celt, I asked for a dog companion who would be more than just a pet; who would be a walker on the path with me. And the result was purely magical.

Life Changes and Changes Us

Just yesterday, I was in my room in Westwood, a can of Aquanet in one hand, a hairdryer in the other, spraying my hair into some unnatural position and getting ready for a night of fun with some longtime friends. My grandparents were alive and well and watching television downstairs; my aunt was nearby, watching television in either the living room or her bedroom and resting after a long day at work. The night was wide open and so was I, ready for whatever those glamorous, dark hours of the day would bring. Ah, to be so young and free!

Fast forward several years, and here I am living in Florida. My Grandparents have both passed, though my aunt still lives in the same house, a house I still consider to be my home and in which I always feel comfortable and welcome. I shun hairspray vehemently, don't have time for excessive hair drying and am usually sleepy by 8:00 p.m. How life has changed! I was reflecting on how dramatically my daily routine has been altered, especially over the past five or so years, while attempting to drink my morning coffee around the cat I'm watching for a friend (she's a very sweet cat, but has no concept whatsoever of personal space). The day began with my husband and I waking up and attempting some of that husband and wife intimacy that usually falls largely by the wayside once children enter the picture. Somehow, it always seems to me that our daughter possesses some inner radar which alerts her the second a kiss is exchanged between N and me. This morning was no different; suddenly, a little head appeared at the foot of our bed and a soft thud could be felt as she sprung up onto the mattress to join us. Whoosh! That illusive bird of lust and loving caresses was rousted from her perch and she flew off into the great blue yonder with an alarmed screech. Intimacy prevailed, but it was altered from that of husband and wife to that of cuddly family. Still delicious and wonderful, but not at all the same. Moments later, N sprung up to get ready for work and, after snuggling with our little one for a time that never seems to last long enough, I followed his lead, wandering out to the kitchen while silently praying that he'd put the coffee on (he had). The morning hours are usually my quiet time, the portion of the day when I prepare my lists and ground and center. I like to enjoy breakfast, sip my coffee and do a little reading (the only reading I will have time to engage in until bedtime, when I will probably be too tired to read more than a paragraph before falling asleep with the book on my face). This morning, after N left, I commenced my usual routine, only to be interrupted by our little one, who was now wide awake way too early and ready to take on the world. In sheer desperation, I turned on cartoons; bad, I know, but the only way I could be assured of any peace at all for a short period of time. While this is not a fail safe option (every few minutes her sweet face would appear at the kitchen table to report the goings on of Mi How Kai Lan), it does help a little. If I don't have this quiet time, I'm a bear for the rest of the day, which makes me an ineffective and dreadful Mommy, so a few cartoons are sometimes just what the Mommydoctor ordered. Two loads of laundry have already been almost completed, another swishes around in the washing machine, a day of schoolwork lies ahead of us, the chickens still need to be fed, and the dog is pacing because he desperately needs a long, adventurous walk. Guilt is plaguing me like Edgar Allen Poe's raven because I have decided to take a few minutes of creative time to write, but I've realized lately that it's important to take these moments here and there, even if it means showering and getting dressed at speeds that would rival Buzz Lightyear.

The wonderful and interesting thing is that, with all of this mayhem and madness spinning my life into delightful chaos (and sometimes not so delightful chaos-ahem), I have found more peace than ever in the things that ground me-reading, writing, artwork, and stolen conversations with my husband and with friends. I find that I'm grateful for the life my life is now filled with and sometimes taken over by, for the happiness I glean from my husband, daughter, and animal companions. The free spirited me still dances below the surface of my being, but she's more rooted nowadays, less free floating and carefree because I have so much to care about, so many to care for and so many who care for me.

And so, to quote a line from the movie, Hitch: "So how does it happen, great love? Nobody knows... but what I can tell you is that it happens in the blink of an eye. One moment you're enjoying your life, and the next you're wondering how you ever lived without them."

Reflections on Family

We spent a great weekend hanging out with my husband's family from Germany-his cousin and her teen-aged daughter. We went for dinner one night at a restaurant on the Dania Beach Pier, spent a day at Holiday Everglades Park enjoying an air boat ride through the Everglades and an alligator show (being on vacation in Florida, they wanted to see some alligators before they headed back home), then went to South Beach that night to have dinner and see the sights (it was a mob scene and I will be reluctant to return to Miami until the crowds have thinned a bit-way too much testosterone floating on the ocean breezes). Yesterday I whipped up a big pot of pasta, my Nana's famous (in our family, anyway) chocolate chip Mandelbrot and a salad, and we all ate dinner together, happily immersed in conversation about everything under the sun. When it was time for them to leave, my daughter was so unhappy with parting. She really enjoyed spending time with family, and I felt so sad for her that she doesn't have too many occasions to experience that. When I was a child, I took it for granted that I was surrounded by family. Every holiday was an occasion for us to gather, eat yummy food, laugh together, and catch up on the daily events of our lives. Nowadays, these get-togethers are relegated to a couple of times a year (more, if we're very lucky). I see my Mom about once a year, and my heart breaks when the time comes for us to board the airplane and head back to Florida, not only for myself but for our daughter, who I wish could have a closer relationship with her (as I did with my own Grandmothers).

Family connects us to our roots. When I was sitting at our kitchen table, watching our little one interact with her cousins, I was struck by how great it was for her to have the chance to do so-she was connecting with family who still live in a place of her genetic origin, who are still rooted to that land, the way my great grandparents were rooted to Ireland or Amsterdam. I examined their faces for traces of recognition: could that curve of chin be the same as my daughters? I was raised with the belief that family is intensely important and that our links to one another are priceless, and I carry that belief with me to this very day. That said, many days I find the separation to be painful and difficult. I wonder if this physical distance will always exist between myself and my own family and I try not to dwell on those thoughts because I can't find resolution there. Still, I look forward to visiting Massachusetts this summer, to seeing the beautiful, familiar expanse of coastline as the plane makes its way closer to my birth home, to finding myself once again in the arms of those I love who are usually so far away. I have the gut feeling that I belong there; my spirit feels at home in that environment more than it does anyplace else, though it took me time away to realize that this visceral link existed. Deep within myself, there lives a feeling that I will not be far away from this land indefinitely, but that conviction brings about its own fears. I can't imagine a happy scenario that would bring my family here up to Massachusetts, and leaving here would invite sadness as well, the sorrow at leaving friends and the places that have become familiar over the past several years. I suppose I need to find trust in the Great Spirit, go about my daily life trying to do the right thing, and simply bask in the wonders of the here and now, as I try to do every day.

I once read that deep within the heart of many an immigrant lives the spirit of longing for home. The Universe hears this cry and tries to respond, as it does to many of our thoughts, both conscious and subconscious. I only hope that the answers I receive are rooted in balance and happiness for all.

(Perhaps I should have labeled this post "melancholy Monday"?)

And into the Weekend With Us!!!

With the Easter (for me Ostara) weekend upon us and a kid's birthday party and swimming lessons to attend tomorrow, I imagine the next couple of days will be hectic. My husband has family visiting the States from Germany; we hope to visit with them on Sunday and enjoy a nice dinner with them before they leave for home on Tuesday. I'd imagined cooking a magnificent roast but probably will resort to some sort of pasta dish for the sake of time. It is not my wish to spend the entire day in the kitchen on Sunday and, as I have a tendency to overburden myself (the result of a highly excitable and imaginative mind, possibly), I will most likely have enough food to make as it is. I'm planning a matzoh ball soup and my Grandmother's chocolate chip Mandelbrot, a salad, some sort of bread, and the pasta dish. This should be enough food to provoke a pleasant food coma after dinner but not so much that any is wasted. I usually cook enough to feed a small army and then regret it later for the amount we don't eat.

Anyway, with the arrival of spring, I've been thinking about magic. Not just the magic of spells, potions, incense, and candles, but the magic that happens every day-the blessing of spring flowers pushing themselves forth from the moist earth, the call of songbirds and the whisper of warmth in the air. Since I live in South Florida, spring is not as pronounced as it was when I lived up north, but there are still signs of its presence to be felt, subtle though they be. This winter, nature was very kind to us (though not so kind to the iguanas and other non-native species who were unable to withstand the prolonged cold spells we experienced this year). We were treated with chilly nights and breezy, cold days-real winter days, minus the zero temperatures and the snow. The chill extended well past its usual visitation (if we even have a visit from the cold-some winters we barely notice that the "cold season" is upon us), and, even now, the temperatures are mild and very spring-like. While I know that soon the humidity will descend upon us like a warm, wet blanket and the sun will possess an intensity such as to sear the skin, right now the weather is beautiful and welcoming. The palm tree outside my window is dancing in a light breeze, accompanied by the very large mango beside it. A sweet breathe of air is passing through the shades of the office window, and all feels well in the world.

There is another kind of magic as well-the type that can be felt in a home but not necessarily seen. I think this sort of magic is born of a combination of things-the love everyone in our home shares with one another, remnants of spells which float on the air, residual energy from our home's previous owners (who seem to have been good, kind people and pillars of their community), the wonderful vibration of life which emanates from our animal companions. It's delicious and wonderful and I cherish that magic down to my soul. It makes me feel like I'm truly on the right spiritual path for me, and that the Goddess and God are blessing us and surrounding us with their divine love.

May you all have a blessed and happy weekend!