The title of this post is from “Killing Me Softly,” which I am now learning in my voice lessons. For reasons that needn’t be stated, it also kind of fits with this photo, which I took at the women’s march in D.C. last weekend. It was a wonderful, bonding weekend spent with five other women at a lovely home in D.C. where we cooked, talked, drank wine, knit (I’m learning) and marched at the event itself, which I’m not going to describe in depth on here as I was told that as a writer I don’t want to alienate potential readers by being too political so I will just leave it at this.
If you want to hear more about it, call me.
I like talking on the phone. Kickin’ it old school.
Today I got this message, from my dear L, who now lives too far away but with whom I’d grown very close shortly after I started this blahhhhg: “Did you know I saved some of your blog posts throughout the years? They help me when I’m feeling blue.”
It’s funny, L, that you sent me that today, as I’ve been heavily contemplating putting this thing out of its misery. You were one of the reasons I kept going in the first place – and we reconnected through it, and we got to a place in our friendship that we might not otherwise have gotten. I see you only once every couple of years right now, but you are never terribly far from my thoughts and I love that I can text you out of the blue, “L, they put raisins in my salad” and you will text back something like, “Are you kidding me??? DO THEY KNOW WHO THEY ARE DEALING WITH?!” and then we might not speak again for a few months but I know you’re out there and you know I’m back here and we, together, transcend time and distance.
I loathe raisins a) on their own and b) in savory food. In the occasional baked good, I’m fine.
I don’t have the aversion to them that Trump has to sharks This is not a political blog.
As many of you know, I have a love/not-sure-how-I-feel-about relationship with NYC, and I am here for the foreseeable future. This past week has been one that’s reminded me of some of the things I love about this place.
It’s been a busy and exhausting and emotionally draining week with some beautiful moments interspersed.
I returned from my girls’ weekend in D.C., which had no particular agenda
RESIST!!!, on Sunday afternoon, to a sick Louie. There has been a doggie virus going around our area, apparently. We brought him to the vet and gave him some meds and he did better for a day or so. Wednesday evening I went to see my voice teacher, the inimitable Jamie Leonhart, perform at Joe’s Pub. She was phenomenal. I got home to a sick-again Louie, and so we rushed him to the vet first thing Thursday AM. They took him to the back and after a little while his vet called me into a room to talk. She had tears in her eyes – she loves Louie; obstinate weirdo that he is, it’s hard not to. She told me that as he wasn’t responding to treatment, there seemed to be other things going on. And that she wasn’t sure they could do much, but they would give him fluids and tests to be sure. I asked her if it was possible he wouldn’t be coming home with us again, and she said yes.
I trust this woman implicitly. If I could send every animal I know to see her, I would. She talked me through what the process entails – because I asked. I had to go to work and B had a job and so we couldn’t come back until the end of the day, at which point, she said, we could spend as much time as we wanted with him and she very gently explained what would happen. But, she said, of course they would check him out to be sure of things if that was the route I wanted to go, and of course exhausting all options was the route I wanted to go.
I wanted to cancel my day and B convinced me not to. My first order of business was my voice lesson with Jamie, who has become a friend. How delightful it was to sit in the studio singing with this fabulous woman I’d seen perform at Joe’s Pub the night before, a woman who also loves dogs and gets it and allows me to be weepy when I’m weepy or scattered when I’m scattered – basically, a woman willing to meet the people in her life wherever they are at the moment.. This is a trait I try hard to cultivate.
So we started learning “Killing Me Softly”, and I know last time around I said I was going to work on “Windmills” but this song was played at an integral moment during my no-particular-reason
NOT MY … OH F**K HE IS trip to D.C. and Jamie loves it too and we decided to learn it.
And halfway through my lesson the vet calls. And she says, “Well, he tried to kill me, and I was so relieved. We checked him out, his pancreas in inflamed again, but there is no cancer. He was so feisty that I actually had to give him a mild sedative. This boy is not ready to go anywhere.”
Long story no shorter, Louie is home with us this weekend, on new meds, has spent a few days on fluids at the vet, and we are delighted and bewildered and exhausted. We are loving him and spending as much time with him as he will allow; Lou affection entails his letting us pet him until he’s had enough and then walking into the other room. And I love him for this and for so, so much more.
You know the inevitable post will come, and I thank you in advance for your love and warmth, and I think they were wrong, he’s actually either a cat or an android.
Then more reasons-to-love-New York came to light. Because he’s had issues that affect his cleanliness of late we needed to figure out a way to clean him up. He made it very clear that this was not something we could do for him. This morning I called his former groomer, Elly, who hasn’t seen him in years, probably since before his knee surgery. I explained the situation, she said they were slammed but could fit him in between 11 and 11:30. We brought him in, they were familiar and loving to him, they cleaned him up, he screamed – SCREAMED – bloody murder the whole time, we brought him back out and when I asked how much I owed, Elly waved her hand and said, “We’ve known him for years – this was an emergency – it’s on us.” It was an incredibly kind gesture that almost made me weep (I wept).
We brought Lou home where he has been Netflix-and-chilling all day. I spent the afternoon with one of my best friends, the first friend I made in this big city back in 1932, and we had lunch and went to galleries in my neighborhood, including the Pace Gallery for the Thomas Nozkowski show.
And now I’m home, I’m in for the night, I’m tired, I’m emotional, and I’m aware of how incredibly lucky I am to have the circle of family, friends, and acquaintances that I do.
Thank you for reading – this was a rambly one. It’s a rambly time for me.