Biblical Passages

Words are such nifty things -- useful, utilitarian, all-purpose. Yesterday someone told me that I seem to have too much, (was it just alot of) time on my hands. Such innocent words, said in a quip inside a lifelong friendship. But they (my friend's words) even though said at least partly :) in jest did set me to thinking as is my wont and some would say my curse.

Time on my hands: Yes, look at them, the fingers not as straight, Solomon's rings wind deepening swirls around the wrists. Oh, Lord, the knuckles. Well, the secret is that in fact they don't hurt and that we will see them as 'protrubances of dignity,' as my dear friend Ms. Yee would say -- if her breath were still on this side of the beyond. And then she would add "shu-shu" and click her tongue not to worry about the palms' lines. I am sure they would be fronds and not lines to her anyway. Besides, on her 84 year old skin Nivea really did make miracles.

But not on mine. I don't care, though. The lines, though deep, are like a very map to me... a clean and clear chronicle of my yearly passages.

Yes, Pamela, Happy Days friend, we shared the beginnings, just girls, not really understanding women yet or how that word would come to change for us or for our children or grandchildren -- such times ... magical nights with moutons over green evening dresses and sleepovers in baby doll pajamas while we sat eating popcorn, of scouring our faces with OJ's Beauty Lotion and listening to "In the Still of the Night" and of sharing secrets from our separate "My Diary" pages!

Oh, yes, I have lots of time on these ...........and I deeply and truly and vociferously desire plenty more 'cause what an adventure my unmapped hands were heading off for way back then...and none of us truly had a clue, not really. And what is ahead??? More luscious times in Time. Mama is 87 and wow does she have time on her hands; her maps are so full, they approach the sacred. In a reverential way, I would say that both my friend Ms. Yee and my mom have biblical hands. That's what I want. Mama looks at her hands, her maps, and she knows exactly where she is.

Certainly Not a Dog!

Muffin is buried under a pine tree in the back yard; it was a good week before I could stop crying -- had nightmares, too or just could not sleep except for a wink and a nod .... and then I'd startle myself wide awake with the image of soft spaniel brown eyes in front of me. Sixteen years old, she was -- never wanted another dog.

Three years later I flinched and in bounced SugarPlum: Hyperactive, chew- everything-in-sight(including $400 glasses), attacking-you-when-you're-asleep, you-don't-go-to-the-bathroom-outside-so-why-should-I ...... SugarPlum! And I don't think we could live witout her! She yawns "I love you," howls Happy Birthday with the family, washes herself like a cat, is ferocious with children (especially the more dangerous pre-schoolers) and is terrified of plastic bags and soda bottles.

Muffin was totally black; you couldn't tell her from a shiney piece of coal. SugarPlum is tri colored, mostly white with big black patches and honey brown eyebrows. And yes, sometimes, "Muffin!" does slip out. But more often now it's "Damn it, Sugar!" So, life does go on, and it is good. Smile: Sugar owns the house and the family...and she loves all unconditionally -- including her sweet self!