Very Interesting Cola

It's no secret that if you were not born in Maine, you are "from away." A good friend has lived here since she was 3, but she is still considered from away. Her husband, on the other hand, is a native Mainer whose family has lived in the state since the early part of its history. In fact, his ancestors were instrumental in settling the southern part of it.

Those are the kind of solid roots had by native Mainers. They're pleasant to the rest of us who are from away, but no matter how long we may live here, we'll never not be from away.

We can, however, enjoy the glory and wonder that is Maine and take part in its many traditions, like lobster and whoopie pies, lush green forests and rocky shorelines, LL Bean and our foodie capital Portland, and so much more. I followed the path of many a native Mainer recently by drinking a Moxie, the official state drink.

If you haven't heard of this strange cola in an orange can, it definitely falls into the trippy category. It's unique -- or, as the tagline on its website says, distinctively different. I read an article, probably two or more years ago, that quoted someone as saying that the first sip of Moxie is the worst. And I remember deciding at the time that I didn't need to have a firsthand experience with it. Kind of like not feeling the need to go skydiving to know that it's not for me.

One day recently I happened to be at a friend's house -- the one considered from away -- and found myself being offered a Moxie. Apparently, her teenage sons drink the stuff. My curiosity must have gotten the better of me that day, because I was a bit intrigued. I said I'd try it. My friend popped the can open and set it in front of me.

Initially, all seemed well. I detected a hint of something that was reminiscent of black licorice, but naught was amiss. Then my palate picked up on a medicinal taste that then morphed into something utterly indescribable.

My friend burst out laughing at the face I made as that first sip lingered, and lingered some more -- and my tongue repeatedly smacked against the roof of my mouth trying to dislodge the offending taste.

Then I did something that surprised even me: I proceeded to drink the rest of the can. After all, from what I had heard, it was all downhill from there.

You, too, can take the plunge into the Maine-originated phenomenon that is Moxie. If you decide to indulge, though, be sure to shore up your moxie.  

You'll need it.

Unexpected

In the big scheme of things, there is all manner of the unexpected to be experienced. Some of it feels good, and some of it just doesn't.

This isn't going to be a philosophical or spiritual discussion about nonattachment, and how if we are in such a place we don't look at things as good or bad -- we simply observe them, etc. etc. 

Personally, I have made progress in the nonattachment effort in some areas and not so much in others.

But I digress. Truly.

This is really about getting a call, seemingly out of the blue, from a friend who sensed -- across the illusions we call time and space -- that something might be up and calling to check in may be in order.

That kind of unexpected feels really, really good. Especially when it involves hearing from someone who cared enough not only to heed that inner nudging, but also to go ahead pick up the phone and do something a little apart from the ordinary by calling later than propriety may suggest.

Thank you, S. Gratitude is still reverberating around my inside parts.

   

Tiny Houses

So, after another respite from blogging, I'm back at it. Onward with the remaining letters of the alphabet.

For those of you who have reminded me about that, thank you for the nudge. I hadn't forgotten. I've just been busy composing posts in my head. ;)

Like this one, for instance. I'm all for simplifying, and I'm intrigued by the tiny house concept -- thus why I'm jazzed by the thought of a rolling home. But these shelters give a whole new meaning to tiny.

They are fairy houses, and they can be found on Mackworth Island in Falmouth, Maine. No wonder, because it's a truly magical place right on the coast. Tree-lined trails lead around the edge of the island, providing a gorgeous canopy of stillness. It feels a world away from the busyness of Falmouth's Rte. 1, and of Portland, Maine's largest city, which is right across the water.

The one challenge about this beautiful place is parking, particularly during the summer. But it's well worth the time and effort to be able to spend some time in the magic that is Mackworth.

Letting Go

Yesterday I said goodbye, for now, to Belle, whom I often called my big, beautiful black girl.

Belle

She looks as beautiful as ever in that photo, taken yesterday morning, but she was declining pretty rapidly. She was jaundiced, had lost more than seven pounds in a short time period (going from 17 pounds to less than 10) after doing a lot of vomiting and then not eating, and, I discovered when we went to the vet Friday, had a mass in her abdomen. The vet's prognosis was that she had cancer.

Before he came out with the "c" word, though, he was using language like "supportive care." The latter finally started to permeate the brain fog that tends to come when I'm processing not-so-good news from a health care provider. I realized that we were talking about making her comfortable in the short time she had left -- not discussing options like medication to resolve whatever temporary thing was going on.

I opted not to engage in extraordinary diagnostic or treatment measures. I'd had Belle for nearly 10 years and she was almost 4 years old when she came to me, so at close to 14 she had had a good, long, healthy life. I didn't want her last days to be filled with pain and repeated trips to the vet to be poked and prodded. And I wanted to let her go in a peaceful, loving way that honored her life.

Belle was a fireball. She was sweet, loving, intelligent and feisty -- a girl after my own heart. She had figured out how to slide open the screen door, so she would often let herself outside for a few minutes of freedom before I realized what she had done and caught up with her. And even though she'd spend most of her days quietly sleeping in another room, her presence so filled the space of our small home that it now feels quite empty without her. Clifford and I are certainly adjusting to a new normal today.

Just one example of Belle's feistiness: Before canine munchkin Clifford came into our lives, I had a pit bull named Elmo. Elmo was 75 pounds of muscle and love. He enjoyed getting in Belle's face and trying to get her to play. One day she simply had had enough. With an "I just can't take it anymore" attitude Belle chased Elmo around and around the coffee table in the living room, making him scooch his butt around the corners so he wouldn't get claws in his hindquarters.

Those are the laugh-inducing times that make me wish I had a video camera always at the ready.

Not only did she hold her own against the playful Elmo, but she also did with Ariel, my first four-legged kid and the senior one in the household at the time. The night I brought Belle home, I left her in her carrier on top of the table for a bit so she could get a sense of her surroundings while Elmo and Ariel picked up on her scent and got adjusted to her presence. At one point, Ariel jumped up on the chair right in front of Belle's carrier. When she finally caught on that a cat was in there, Ariel turned to me with an absolutely disgusted look on her face as if to say, "You b*&%$! What have you done?!"

That was also quite comical.

Although Ariel and Belle never became best buds, they did develop a healthy respect for one another that allowed for a peaceful coexistence. With time, Elmo, Ariel and Belle came to be a companionable threesome.

I believe gratitude can make a whole lot of things better, so right now I'm grateful:

• That Belle was purring and conscious during her last days and hours here, and that her last vision of me and the world around her wasn't through a haze of pain

• That we got a last night of togetherness, and that Belle was afforded an opportunity to exercise her huntress capabilities with the moth that presented itself to her like an offering Friday evening

• That we arrived at our appointment a bit early, and Belle got to wander around outside and eat her fill of grass

• For Dr. Jon Spelke and the capable and compassionate folks at Androscoggin Animal Hospital, who take great care of pets and their people

• That life continues after we release a physical body, and even though it's hard for our human senses to realize it, our loved ones are still with us after we let them go

Odd couples make for great buddies

Tornado

With all the turmoil in the world, it feels like a post like this could go up every day sending prayers and loving thoughts to all those affected by tragedy.

Today, though, the thoughts and prayers are for everyone in the Oklahoma City area impacted by the day's tornado. May the survivors be found and pulled from the rubble quickly, may the healing begin for the injured, and may the hearts of those who lost loved ones and homes start to mend.

Spring

It's been long awaited. And it's finally arrived.

The signs are all around. Today is the first day that I stepped outside and didn't feel at least a bit of coolness in the air. It's actually warm -- 72 degrees right now.

Gotta wonder how that can be so when right below the current temp on Yahoo's weather app it says the high today will be 66 degrees.

With the exception of a couple of days that have been a bit cloudy here and there, we've had just about two straight weeks of sunshine. All the sun and lack of rain hasn't been good for the area's water level, but I'm sure it's brightened many a Mainer's mood after such a long winter.

In just about 10 days, the hardy hostas have already progressed nicely in their growth cycle.

From daring shoots ...

... to beauteous leafy blooming

All that leafy goodness will eventually serve as a salad bar of sorts for the deer with whom we share these woods. The hostas grow and cover all the ground area of the small rotary in front of the house, making a lush munching spot for our white-tailed friends.

The woodsy trees are sporting more and more green as the leaves bud and unfurl, and the flowering trees are getting more colorful.

Part of spring's sunny palette

I've been enjoying the signs as they present themselves. And now I'm off to enjoy this glorious day. Hope you get to do the same.

Reunion

I got a postcard in the mail today reminding me that my college class will have its 20th reunion this year.

How on earth has it been two decades since I graduated from college?

I know I'm not the first person to feel the unrelentingly quick passage of time, and I certainly won't be the last. But gersh dernit. It seems nearly impossible.

It's one of those double-edged sword things, really. I certainly have done a lot of living in the intervening years. Lived in various regions of the country. Moved a whole lot. Worked for a bunch of different companies. Met some great people. Made some enduring connections. Got married. Got divorced. Bought and released a couple of homes. Started to find my way back to my Self. Began living more authentically. Let go of a whole lot of baggage.

And much more.

So, while it's hard to believe that much time has gone by, almost in a blink or two, there is a tremendous feeling of lightness and freedom setting in now.

Anyway, as you may have noticed, I did not make it through the alphabet with blog posts during April. But I will make it through the alphabet, by golly.

This post marks one more down. Eight more to go.