I hit a point in every prolonged absence from home where the excursion isn’t fun anymore and all I want is to sleep in my own bed, cook my own meals, and wear something that I haven’t pulled out of a backpack in the past week. This time last year, I was so there! and if I could’ve just gotten on a plane and taken “Juno” with me, I would have.
But we had important things to do…
We had the simulated traffic checks, which I already knew that “Juno” would pass with flying colours (she did). We sat for pictures, which was extra frustrating because the trainers guided us to the platform while another trainer situated our dogs, and then some of our dogs would lie down during the group picture rather than sit up. Photos are not a hill I will die on; so long as my dog is out of the way and behaving herself, I don’t care if she’s in the photo op. By the time photos were done, I was so frustrated that I went to my room, and then to the dining hall where I commiserated with my classmates who all had strong opinions on photo day.
After photos and lunch, we headed over to a local park to do some “doubles” work. This is where two guide dog teams practice walking together, alternating who’s in front, so that one dog isn’t always in the lead. This was one thing that Jenny was particularly stubborn about – she always had to be in front – but “Juno” doesn’t care so much about such things. Our doubles partner was not her class boyfriend; we all agreed they’d be too much of a distraction for each other. Instead, the class’ social butterfly was “Juno”‘s doubles partner… for a while at least.
I’m glad we’d switched to the leather harness from the Unifly. One thing I didn’t know was that this park was one of “Juno”‘s favourite running spots. The leather harness constricted her movements enough so that she couldn’t go flying around the park loop… but she wanted to! I hoped we could get a run in before we headed home…
After our invigorating power walk through the park, it was time for vet physicals. All the dogs got their checkups and weigh-ins, and then got taken for baths to make sure the giardia was gone. My girl came back to my room all shiny and clean, happy to be back with me, and out of nowhere got the zoomies! I’d never seen her so happy! I still wanted to go home, but the next day would be one of the highlights of guide dog school – New York City!
As usual, my alarm – whether it was internal or external – woke me well before park-feed-water-park time. So I put on a coffee and got some work done, because just laying in bed made my skin feel like it was going to itch.
“Juno” curled up under my desk while I did the things that needed to get done. I decided to move the mat from inside her crate to the spot under my desk so she’d be more comfortable, and she curled up like she’d been working under a desk for years. If I ever wondered how she’d handle going to the office, I didn’t anymore.
“Juno” HAD to potty, at a time long before anyone was available to pick up. So I picked up, lleft the bag in a space that was easy to find, and sent a text to the nursing staff so she could grab it for more tests. Because that morning, we still didn’t know what was going on with “Juno”, and the more data we had the better.
We hit a milestone in training one year ago today. Our first few walks were with the support leash – where a trainer holds one leash while I hold another. This was interesting for a dog I’d already discovered had boundary issues (do not crowd her, please!) but it’s an important part of the process; if things go sideways, someone who knows this dog well will be able to pull you back from the brink. But one year ago today, the metaphorical “training wheels” came off. I saw some of “Juno”‘s hard-headedness, particularly when it came to going to the bathroom in the rain that had started pouring that morning. I made the inevitable miscalculation of comparing her to Jenny. But to be honest, seeing her stubbornness made me feel more comfortable. I could work with stubborn; I could not work with a dog who just went la-di-da along with everything I did. But while both Jenny and “Juno” are stubborn, “Juno”‘s stubbornness had manners. She decided she was going to be maybe sort of kind of distracted by something, keeping far to the left of the sidewalk. Jenny would have been FULLY DISTRACTED by whatever “Juno” was interested in, and getting her out of that headspace could be a challenge; “Juno” asked politely if I’d reconsider my position on the thing that distracted her, and then moved on when she realized I would not.
Again, guide dog training is exhausting. And the rain didn’t make it more pleasant. When we came back to campus from the training centre, we were all ready to dry off and warm up.
They found me and “Juno” in the grooming room. “Juno” loves loves loves to be groomed; I discovered very early it’s one of her favorite things in the world. You’re brushing her and touching her and all she wants to do is lean into it and soak it up for all it’s worth. If they were looking for me, I knew they had her test results.
“Juno” tested positive for giardia. This is not surprising in any group of dogs in a congregate setting; my partner’s dog tested positive while he was in training as well, and I know they introduced the dogs at some point to see how they got along. Is it possible that my partner’s dog gave it to “Juno”? Maybe. Could it have come from somewhere else? Maybe. Did it really matter? Nope.
“Juno” got medications with every meal. There were two types of medications, one she would take for five days, and one she would take for ten. The dogs in class all got a special treat called a “meatball” with their supper to kill any potential parasites they may have been exposed to. One of my classmates cracked a joke over our supper that there was no blame for “Blondie” (“Juno”‘s class nickname) potentially giving everyone an STI (socially transmitted infection). I was too emotional to find it truly funny then, but looking back now, I can admit… it is kind of funny.
The one constant for me at guide dog school was the fatigue. Not the type of fatigue that a night’s sleep improves, but the physical and emotional exhaustion of constantly doing normal things in a new environment that’s more like boot camp (with a time change to boot!) and new people and a new dog who didn’t know me like my old dog and I just wanted to go home! Throw in an infection that while easy to treat can become chronic, and I was so very exhausted that very little could break me out of this funk.
But “Juno” did…
After ignoring all the toys in the toy box for two whole days, she decided that she wanted to play. And if I was sitting and stewing or working and not moving or paying attention to her… she would nudge me with a toy. If I still ignored her, or didn’t give her the play time she needed, she then decided the way to get my attention for real for real was to throw the toy at me. I didn’t know dogs could throw toys a foot in front of their faces, but she did! I started laughing… And then couldn’t stop.
And, again, after another long day with important steps forward, I thought that maybe it would all be OK.
My mornings started early. Like, off the charts early. Like, 3:00 AM in Alberta early. This was both by choice and by necessity. I couldn’t seem to get a full night’s sleep, so I might as well embrace it and get some work done while I had the brainpower and time to do it. This had the added benefit of giving my brain something to focus on while I was busy doom spiraling and awfulizing in my head.
In truth, I had little to complain about. I had a nice dog that worked hard, loved her job, and made me work for her affection. She was self-contained enough to hang out in her crate – door open, by choice – but was just as content to curl up under the desk at my feet while I typed away on my laptop and drank a cup of coffee before taking “Juno” outside when it was late enough for someone to pick up after her.
Yup… you read that right. The first week of guide dog school had school staff picking up poop. This was a hard thing for me on one hand it seemed kind of strange and infantilizing, and besides it was hard to undo the habit of almost ten years of daily poop pick up. But transitions are hard and scary times for these dogs, and one way dogs show either stress or health concerns is through their poop, so it did make a certain amount of sense for a neutral third party to be able to keep tabs on things. As I found out later, this would be important.
Guide dog training is both highly technical and highly boring to write about. What I will say is that it’s absolutely exhausting. You repeat and repeat and repeat things, slowly building on the thing you did a few minutes ago. I walked 4 km one year ago today with “Juno”, something I could do on a given day without thinking twice about it. But even though these walks were broken up into 30-45 minute training sessions at a time, and even though those were broken up into segments with explanations of what my new dog was doing or waiting for traffic to stop or comments about how sloppy my guide form had gotten over the years (my words, not my trainer’s!), and between sessions I could take a break and have a snack or read a book or do some homework while my trainer was working with one of my classmates, I was exhausted by mid-afternoon. Probably because I was wide awake at 5:00 AM in New York…?
At lunchtime, I took “Juno” for a “park” (AKA a bathroom break). One of the trainers watched through the window in case she needed to do poop pickup. She did. She mentioned briefly to me that she saw some blood and was a little concerned. She scooped the poop and brought it back in the van so it could be tested when we got back to the Guiding Eyes campus. We didn’t get test results back that day.
Once we were done for the day – we were always back by 3:00 PM or so – I would nap. Or read. Or snuggle a Labrador who seemed so disinterested in the box full of toys in the room. At supper, she walked on leash with me to the dining hall, and I sat with my classmate whose room was beside mine. “Juno” and her dog had developed a very cute bond in the van that day, but during supper it was important to keep the dogs from misbehaving.
After supper, my classmate and I decided to see what kind of games we could find in Alumni Hall. My class was comprised of four students – two women about the same age, and two men about the same age (twenty years or so older than the women). We invited the guys to join us for games, but they declined. I brought “Juno” with me to Alumni Hall, in truth because she was so gassy I didn’t want her to stink up my room! My classmate brought her dog with her, too. “Juno” decided to take a bone from the box in the corner of Alumni Hall; if all she felt up to was chewing a bone while we played Scrabble or Uno or whatever, that was fine with me. My classmate’s dog was perfectly behaved until they decided that THEY wanted “Juno”‘s bone. This dog frog-walked under the table and got right in front of “Juno”, and stole the bone right from her mouth. And what did “Juno” do?
NOTHING!
For about ten minutes.
And then she snuck under the table, and stole that bone back!
Once that happened, it was ON! We called it a night when the dogs started getting rowdy, partially because “Juno” wasn’t feeling great, and partly because we didn’t know our dogs well enough to objectively gauge how they’d react in a given play scenario. They’d get plenty of playtime later, but tonight was not that night.
I walked back to my room, laughing at the antics of the dogs, worried about my girl, and yet oddly confident that everything would be OK.
In my opinion, the most exciting day of guide dog training is the day you meet your dog. It’s the day you learn their name and age and breed, and maybe a couple of tidbits about them. It’s extremely emotionally charged – excitement, nervousness, grief, apprehension… there are a zillion questions and no way to get answers but go through the process of getting to know your dog. It’s hard to write about dog day; it’s unlike any experience I can think of, except for maybe having a kid? The anticipation is probably similar, and maybe some of the doubts? I don’t know; I have no kids…
We all met in Alumni Hall for the big reveals. Alumni Hall is a large open room. On one side is an open space with dog things – toys, mats, open spaces, where we did obedience daily and some training exercises; on the other side of a very movable barrier (we found out just how movable thanks to a black lab who will remain nameless) is a comfy area with chairs and tables and games and a piano I never played. We settled in on the comfy chairs, were told the name, breed, and age of our dogs, and then went back to our rooms for… the meeting.
When “Juno” came into my room, I was overjoyed. She was… happy-ish. She was very reserved, but not afraid to show what she wanted. Her tail didn’t wag much – unlike the enthusiastic tail wagging I heard on the other side of my wall from my classmate’s room. I wondered what in the world I was getting into. I was used to a dog who didn’t need a dictionary; now this dog was just so… quiet!
But after a few quick training sessions with treats – another new experience for me – she started to warm up. She was a perfect companion as I worked on my laptop, but she made very sure I got up for breaks. She ignored the toys in the toy box in the room, but showed me her funny side that evening when she rolled on her back and grabbed my hand with her paws. I knew I liked her; I hoped this was the beginning of a wonderful partnership.
I had high hopes to sleep during my red-eye flight over most of the United States. The universe had other plans. I caught some snatches of sleep but was interrupted by turbulence and a screaming baby. When I disembarked the plane – no wheelchair that morning – I was cranky and exhausted and wondered what in the world I was doing.
I was met at the airport by a member of the Guiding Eyes staff and was directed to the baggage carousel. When I said I had my backpack and that was it, the response was surprise – this was something that would happen frequently over the next two weeks. But with no baggage to pick up, I was that much closer to my ride, a cup of coffee, and a nap, not necessarily in that order.
I was the first of my class – all four of us – to arrive at Guiding Eyes. I was directed to my room, where I promptly put down my backpack, sprawled out on the bed, and fell asleep for three hours. I connected to the wifi, sent a few emails, and then headed down the hall and up the ramp for lunch, where I met one of my classmates for lunch.
The first time training with a guide dog, I trained in my local environment, so any food that was prepared, I had to either make it myself or eat it in restaurants or coffee shops locally. For years I’ve heard amazing things about the food at guide dog school, and while I was fed and the food wasn’t bad, I felt disappointment that the food was… decent.
After lunch and a chat with my classmate, whose room was right beside mine, I went back to my room and waited for the Juno walk.. with a real dog! Maybe my real new dog?
The first introduction I had to “Juno” was her nose in my crotch. AWKWARD!!! I knew she was a yellow lab female, and that’s it. Everything I said during our entire walk was using the name “Juno” (a standard name used by guide dog schools to indicate a non-specific or – when a trainer is simulating a dog’s movements – a non-existent dog).
“Juno, forward.”
She was off like a rocket. She pulled like a tank.
“Juno, left.”
She took the turn smoothly at a wide angle; I was used to Jenny’s turn-on-a-dime style.
She was smart and quick and eager to please, and I was a teeeeeeensy bit smitten.
I learned very quickly with “Juno” that I’d let my body posture get sloppy. With Jenny, I could move in whatever ways I felt comfortable, and they’d communicate to her; Jenny and I knew each other. I could move my right wrist only slightly and she’d make a turn; “Juno” required fuller movements. Jenny didn’t mind my being right beside her; “Juno” required a bit more space. We tried different harness handles, and the walk was both exhausting and exhilarating, and I wanted more than anything for “Juno” to be my match.
After the “Juno” walk, as my other classmates arrived, we all settled in, ate dinner, and turned in early. I was exhausted. All I could think about was a smart yellow lab with inconsistent boundary issues, and how much I could sleep that night while I fretted about bonding with a new dog while Jenny hung out at home.
I need not have worried:
Dear diary… I was so sad when my mom left yesterday without me and I don’t know where she went, and she wasn’t there this morning either. Then my bestest friend came over and took me out for the day, we went to his house where I got tons of cuddles and belly rubs and played in the snow. Then we went on another car ride and some long walks and went to a great coffee shop that serves puppuchinos, we met another friend and then went to a school where I met a bunch of small humans who thought I was awesome. A little girl gave me liver treats and I showed her how well I could follow directions, and then we had a cuddle and a nap on the couch before I went home and played with my new little brother until we both had to lie down for a rest. I still miss my mom, but sure have some great friends. Is this called retirement ? I was exhausted.
One year and two days ago, I threw a party with a few friends at a now-closed chicken restaurant I loved to celebrate the storied career of Jenny the guide dog.
One year and one day ago, my partner arrived home with his new service dog after two weeks away. Looking back, he had the harder job; I had two weeks with a working guide dog and three cats to watch over, only one of the cats was really upset about his absence. He had his new young working dog, my retired guide dog, and three cats to watch over while I was away… the retired guide dog was about as upset at my absence as the one cat was upset over his.
One year ago today, I started a whole new adventure. And since guide dog training is exhausting unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, blogging about it at the time was not on my radar. So now I’ll take this opportunity to write about meeting my new guide dog, through the lens of one crazy year. I’ll be writing it as a retrospective; every day was a new experience in getting to know my dog, so I’ll reveal bits and pieces every day over the next two weeks as I learned them a year ago.
One Year Ago… A Journey Begins
The bag was packed. For those who have been around long enough to remember the Intrepid Journey? That bag. Jenny saw the bag and went nuts. She wagged her tail and turned in circles and shoved her head into her harness handle. THE BAG IS PACKED AND BY THE DOOR AND WE ARE GOING!!!!
But we weren’t.
I cried my eyes out and told her she was so very good, but she couldn’t come with me to the airport even if she really really really really really wanted to. She was retired now, and I couldn’t take her with me to guide dog school; my focus would have to be getting to know and bond with my new young dog. I cried in the car while my friend drove me to the airport. I really missed Jenny’s guiding skills and love of airports while I waited for gate assistance at the airport. Traveling with a white cane is very different from traveling with a dog. I am competent at both, but find it takes far more energy to travel with a cane; the cane detects obstacles, and I’m the one who has to figure out what the obstacle is and what options I have to negotiate it. I once wrote that “my worst day with a guide dog is exponentially better than my best days with my cane, especially in unfamiliar places.” This is still true. Throw in the emotional gut-punch of Jenny’s retirement, and I was tired long before I even boarded my first flight. I think I slept all flight long.
Then I changed planes in Seattle. I disembarked and was met by someone with the ricketiest wheelchair I think I’ve ever encountered. I walked briskly with my cane and my heavy backpack and he insisted I needed to get in the chair. I kept walking and told him he could either provide me good directions, or I’d figure it out myself, but I was not getting in that wheelchair.
He made the smart choice and gave me moderately tolerable directions. I was ravenously hungry, and told him I’d like to stop for something to eat. He got me to a non-descript eating establishment/kiosk/store? (I’m still not sure what) and told me to order. I had no idea what was available (sandwiches? pizza? crackers? candy? exotic never-seen-before cheese?) Another customer showed me such compassion and told me the sandwiches looked good. I chose one at random; at that point I was so hungry I didn’t care what I ate. I then walked over to my gate, ate my passible sandwich, and thought about my new guide dog. What would they be like? Could i work with them after getting into such an amazing rhythm with Jenny? Would Jenny get along with the new dog, or be upset that I was leaving every day with another dog?
My flight was called. It was getting real now. I boarded my plane, closed my eyes, and prepared to sleep the night away as the plane flew several hours east. When I landed, I would be that much closer to meeting my new dog.
I look back over the past year, and realize just how much has happened, how hard it’s been, and how little I’ve written about the whole thing. Jenny retired. I trained with a new guide dog who, in October, was diagnosed with a mast cell tumor that thankfully got removed but resulted in a complicated healing process. My schooling misadventures feel like how I tried to write about them earlier this year – fits and starts and momentum and slammed-on brakes. We adopted a fourth cat. I’m going through a period of self-discovery that I’m not ready to discuss yet, but it does bear mentioning here because it’s part of all the things I’ve done in 2023 and will move forward into 2024.
In short… this year has been harder than I ever expected it to be. I feel like I’ve spent most of it treading water, being handed a lifeline (like a new opportunity), and then getting buried by another wave that might not be really massive, but certainly feels like it. But for the first time in most of a year or maybe longer, I feel like I’m breathing now. I know more about what I need to cope, and hope in 2024 I can share more about this self-discovery journey I’m on… but first let’s look back over 2023, such as it was.
Jenny’s Retirement
Jenny has been retired for nearly a year. She showed me in very real ways in the fall of 2022 that she was ready. My decisive dog – who made even incorrect decisions with 100% confidence – was reluctant to make decisions if there was more than one option. I still tear up thinking of the ways she tried to gently tell me she was ready – being more interested in hanging out with other people, general restlessness, slowing down on routes – until she told me in the most obvious way she knew how that she just was ready to be done. She loves retirement, but whenever I can I love taking her on leash trips to pet-friendly places; she loves those trips, too. She loves curling up and napping in her crate, enthusiastically greets me and Yasha, her successor, whenever we get home from work. She’s made friends with our newest cat, who I am convinced should’ve been born a dog. Her life is about snuggles and playtime and love, and she’s loving retirement!
Introducing: Yasha
IN January, 2023, I took a trip to Guiding Eyes for the Blind in New York to train with a 3-year-old yellow Labrador named Yasha. They tell you not to, but I had a hard time not comparing her to Jenny. Both girls are smart, both are stubborn. But where Jenny thought everything work-related was a new adventure and would do just about anything unless there was a very compelling reason not to do that thing, Yasha is more cautious and insists on a “business plan” as to why my decision(s) should override hers. The first year has been challenging in a way Jenny’s first year with me was not. I took her to the vet in October because I had some concerns about some symptoms and behaviors, and it turned out that she had a mast cell tumor. We spent most of October and November in and out of the vet – removal of the tumor, suture check post-surgery, redoing sutures when one or two blew out 10 days post-surgery, redoing sutures ten days after the first set was re-done, staples ten days later because it was clear sutures weren’t working, and then removal of the staples and hoping for the best when all of those didn’t hold. Thankfully, her prognosis is good, and her surgical site has healed over and is growing fur again!
But our first year wasn’t all about surgeries and vet visits – thankfully! We got to travel this year. Our first trip, to Vancouver, was a good experience for us. Like me, people in my life seemed to compare her to Jenny; or at the very least made comments about her hard-headedness, while I was trying to pick my battles with my new young dog. Our trip to California in December was a great team-building experience, because for the most part, it was her and I taking on Sacramento and San Francisco – areas I knew only slightly. She freaking rocked it, and loves the challenge of new places. One of her fun quirks is her “regrouping” strategy; if she figures out that neither of us know what we’re doing, she’ll take me to an out-of-the-way space to take a deep breath, get our bearings, and then come up with a game plan. She’s found great places to do this (like out of the way corners), and less than ideal ones (like bike racks), but I love her intuitiveness and how we are connecting in these ways. As I come up to one year with this smart, stubborn, serious working dog, I am glad we’ve had these times together, and I look forward to so many more adventures.
So… we Have a Whole Menagerie!
Jenny retired, I trained and brought home Yasha. My partner trained with and brought home a new service dog of his own. So, in the span of about 3 months, we adopted Madonna (a cute white and black cat that everyone calls “Maddie”), and brought home two new Labrador service dogs. This meant our household included 3 Labrador retrievers, three cats, and two humans.
So what did we do?
We adopted another cat. This one, a boy. Wiley is sweet and funny and a little bit foolish – how else can you describe laying in the middle of the floor, getting tripped on, and still not moving? We named him Wiley because he convinced us that he was a chill, mellow marshmallow of a cat… and then started tipping over water bowls in his excitement to go to a new home. He likes to sit beside me when i drink my coffee in the mornings, and can make a cat toy out of just about anything. Wiley is so sweet. He gets along with the dogs (Yasha’s his best friend in the whole wide world), loves Maddie, doesn’t mind getting bossed around by Monkey, and is still figuring out how not to get the crap beaten out of him by Wolfie. That last one is a work in progress.
Our menagerie makes us laugh every single day. Whether Jenny is trying to play with Wiley, or Monkey’s finding interesting and bizarre places to nap, or Yasha is throwing toys at whoever she wants to play with her… I laugh every single day. There’s almost always someone to snuggle with. There will always be fur on my floors, and I’ve made peace with that; but the love and laughter is worth more to me than perfectly clean floors.
School Is… School!
I’ve written before about how school is going. It’s been great in some areas and extremely frustrating in others. I’ve had course coordinators and tutors be extremely supportive – from making accessible format materials and answering all my questions, to the point of contacting accessibility services on my behalf because “it’s your job to learn the material, and it’s my job to make sure that happens” – and those that were much less helpful. I am finishing two courses right now for which I’ve requested extensions while starting two new ones. Online education for me has been a mixed bag, and I do want to write more about it as I move along this journey. But right now, writing about it seems counter-productive; it feels like I should be doing the school things, rather than writing about them.
Cool Unexpected Opportunities
As much as it feels like I didn’t do much in 2023 because I was so busy treading water and putting one foot in front of the other, I stumbled into some cool new opportunities this year. A friend reached out to me late in 2022 about a local docuseries about guide dogs she was participating in, and thought I could share my story too. At the time, Jenny’s retirement was imminent, and I felt it was just the wrong timing, especially with that experience being so raw and training with a new unknown dog, so I let it go and didn’t contact the creators and (I realize now) just hoped it would go away. But life has a funny way of throwing opportunities back at you. Next thing I knew, I was being interviewed on camera, talking about guide dogs, and – after a few months – viewing the final product. Edmonton’s Guide to Guide Dogs debuted in September and can be found on Youtube and Telus Optic TV. I’m glad I was a part of it, and hope it can entertain and educate about the important work that guide and service dogs do in our city.
On top of that, this year found me opening the door to becoming a real published author! I am one of 15 authors whose stories will be shared in an upcoming publication “Run for your Life”, which will be released in March, 2024. The writing was both easier and harder than I thought it would be; I’d written about running for years now. But telling your story as it is intertwined with other peoples’ is a complicated business. how much can you tell of your story without veering off-course and telling the stories that truly belong to others? I think I succeeded in telling my story, and am excited to hold in my hands a real physical book with my name in it!
Speaking of running… I ran my fastest half marathon in years in Edmonton in August! I also ran the Vancouver Half in May, and had a wonderful time! And in December I ran/walked a marathon! I went back to Sacramento to run the California International Marathon, even though I found out in July that the support that’s been provided to visually impaired runners for the past 15 years would no longer be provided. My training was insufficient (I had a hard time training with guides this fall), and my lack of motivation didn’t help. But I crossed the finish line and made a new friend in my guide runner in the process.
So… now what?
Normally, my partner and I light a fire and burn all the paper and cardboard things we’ve accumulated during the year as a symbol of ushering out old things so we can move forward in the new. But it’s so dry and warm that we have no snow to buffer against the fire. So… I guess… I’m thinking about the fire that will be whenever it’s safe to do so. I’m thinking about all of my hopes for 2024; more writing, more jewelry making, and maybe more music. I plan to run a marathon in 2024, but I will be careful about the race I choose, and make sure ahead of time that I’m able to secure guides regularly to train – the past two years have not made this possible. I hope to get through school and re-discover the joy an excitement that I only now realize has been left behind in much of the frustration I’ve faced over the past few months.
In short… In 2024, I just hope. I hope to breathe. I hope for strength. I hope for grace. And I hope 2024 is gentler to me than 2023 has been.
However the past year has been for you, I hope the coming year brings you love, peace, rest, discovery, joy, and productivity – in whatever healthy ways those things look like for you.
When I first registered for school, I thought I would jump headlong into my degree. But the more I thought about it, the less confident I felt about this school thing. What IS expected of me? Can I manage my time well? is there something I’m missing here? And I figured I had better find out now with a course that didn’t count toward my certificate, rather than finding out later that I couldn’t study and work and train for races (and guide dogs, as it later turned out, though I didn’t know that at the time).
Enter Comm 100 – a course I affectionately dubbed “University for Dummies”.
The first thing I noticed about this course was that it contained a physical (printed) textbook. I chose to purchase the electronic copy of my textbook, just as a fact-finding mission. Other than that, I was good to go.
I learned a few things about myself during this course.
The textbook encouraged keeping a learning journal, which I kept up for about two months (one third of my course contract). But I found that was just one more thing to do, and I wasn’t getting a lot of value out of it. That might change one day, but maybe journalling isn’t for me.
I was consistent in my study habits… when I was studying. But I was not consistent with the course, in general. I found that I had great chunks of time (even as long as a month) where I would not even think about the course, or the textbook. I finished not long before my course contract end date, quite possibly because I knew I had the time and flexibility, and knew I would finish the course in the end. Not my finest confession, but I am being honest about being a student and prone to a certain amount of socially conditioned procrastination.
This course was easy to follow, with little tidbits about time management, note-taking, and critical thinking. It was not overly difficult, with the exception of the final paper which stressed me out immeasurably. There were lessons on finding sources, evaluating those sources, and general writing principles, but the paper felt like it was tagged on at the end – like a final exam without a final exam. Or maybe I just don’t like papers?
This little detour probably was not necessary, from an academic standpoint. However, I’m glad I took it – it showed me a few not-so-flattering truths about my study habits.
And because one detour wasn’t enough… I took another.
It’s the second Monday in October, which means it’s Thanksgiving here in Canada. Despite the state of the world today – and the struggles and challenges in my little corner of it – I do have many things to be grateful for.
I am thankful for my rough and tumble house. It’s old, it needs a lot of work, and sometimes I seriously wonder what I was thinking wanting to keep a whole entire house in the first place… but this house has been my home for more than a decade. I know it well. I’ve made it my own – with a lot of help – and plan on continuing to do so. My winter project is to get it painted. I’m absolutely useless at this task, but I can tape baseboards and outlets and other things like a whiz, and delegate the painting itself to those who are considerably better than I. This house has trusted me with its care. Its ghost(s) have shown up. I’ve trusted these four walls with my secrets, as it has entrusted its care to me… and yes, I realize how strange that sounds…
I’m thankful for my new job, which is going well. I like the people I work with. There are many opportunities to learn, and I can even take a few opportunities to pass along information that I know. Jenny has settled in well – maybe too well, since she sneaks into my boss’ office to steal the bones that other office dogs have left behind – and looks forward to her weekly meets and greets with everyone.
Speaking of Jenny, I’m thankful for our eight (EIGHT?!?!?) years of partnership. Her intelligence, love, and sassy attitude make working with her a pure joy.
I’m thankful for my two quirky and funny kitties . Wolfie is coming into herself again, and has made great friends with Simone (AKA the Monkey). Simone, for her part, has grown up into a big kitten with impulse control (something I never saw coming!) They each make me laugh every single day.
I’m thankful for my parents, who have each in their own way raised me to be strong, kind, and self-sufficient
I’m thankful for my partner, who’s been with me through some of the darkest and loneliest periods of my life. This past year and a half has in no way gone as planned, but we’re standing together and actively doing whatever we can to make some of the hard things less terrible.
I’m thankful that my divorce is now final. It’s been over for a long time, and now a judge says it is! I’m thankful that, while things went slowly, for the most part they went smoothly, with enough time and space for us to truly part friendly and cleanly. I wish him nothing but love, success, and happiness; I would never begrudge him anything I’ve found for myself.
I’m thankful for my friends – the new, the constant companions, and the friends with whom I’ve recently reconnected. Throughout the past few days I’ve reconnected with old friends and long-time neighbors, enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner with longtime friends, and there are new people in my world that I am grateful to be building new friendships with.
I am thankful for my running friends. This weekend was the Boston Marathon – both the physical and the virtual race. For a wide variety of reasons – inadequate training, mental brick walls, and really crappy running weather, among others – I had to sit this one out. I hated it. I don’t ever want to sit out a race again! My running family has been nothing short of supportive – encouraging me to keep going, while offering support, comfort and commiseration that things didn’t go as planned. Over the past few days, I’ve received several calls and texts – “So, what’s next for you?” in short, I gotta get off my duff and get moving again! And my running family will be there, whatever that process looks like.
I’m thankful that my beading room will soon be a place of creativity. When I started reclaiming this home as my own, I moved my beading table down into a small room that was used for other things. I wanted to create, to make pretty beaded things that could be seen and felt and enjoyed. But then the pandemic hit and that room turned into my home office – hardly a great creative space. I recently got gifted a new desk from our local Buy Nothing group, and I couldn’t have asked for a better one. My plan this week is to spread things out, find places for them, and get back to work. And that room is also getting its own coat of paint!
Today, October 11, is also National Coming Out day. I’m thankful that I live in a country where I can be myself, be proud, and find community. I’m thankful for all the support I’ve received over the past few years as I’ve come to terms with my identity as someone on the asexual spectrum. I’m so grateful for the conversations and writings and community of Ace folks all over the world, and all the ways I’ve been able to learn, share and grow. And I cannot say enough about my allies – those inside and outside of the Ace community – who’ve accepted this as part of who I am with no judgment, no condescension, and no erasure. This is (sadly) quite rare, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude that my little corner of the universe is full of kind and understanding people.
I generally have a hard time with the perky, don’t worry be happy, positive thinking stuff I see a lot online these days. But if I am being honest, this is truly where I am right now. So for this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for so very many things.
After an incredibly exhausting October, where sleep was elusive and the thought of warm blankets and books I couldn’t concentrate on seemed more appealing than doing stuff around the house, it seems that the last two months of the year put me back together again. We didn’t have to worry about washing dishes by hand, or putting off washing dishes by hand. I could just do my job, go running, spend some time on my exercise bike, and yes… get sh*t done!
November: Puppy Dogs and Plumbing Problems
Ben’s puppy, Wyatt, comes to visit for a few days. He and Jenny get along like a house on fire – they start each day with enthusiastic greetings, wrestle and play, have a nap, and then regroup for more tug wars – not always with things that are appropriate. More than once we have to take Jenny’s stuffed pink pig away from them… and six weeks later we’re still finding strands of destroyed tug rope in various nooks and crannies of the living room… or (also likely) they’ve re-materialized after Wolfie has balled them up and turned them into her own kitty toys. Wyatt and the kitties co-exist quite nicely, staying out of each other’s way, or firmly asserting boundaries if avoidance is impossible. Unfortunately, both Wyatt and Jenny come down with Kennel Cough, and the puppy party must end unceremoniously.
Once a year I have a plumbing company come in and do a check of the plumbing and furnace. This year, I get told – again – that the whole house pretty much needs to be re-plumbed. Oh, and the furnace needs replacing too. And can we add a humidifier to your new furnace? Why yes yes you can… when the furnace gets replaced. But thanks so much for showing me how to disconnect the plumbing for the old dishwasher that’s going to be hauled away in just a few days!
I go out for a run on a Sunday morning, and come home to find a coughing, mopey dog, and a brand new thermostat on the wall. We realized with Daylight Savings Time that there’s no quick and easy way for me to adjust the temperature settings, or the time. This new thermostat can be operated like a traditional thermostat or through Smart technology, which means that for the first time in my life I can independently program a thermostat! It’s a BIG deal to me, even as it feels like a small thing. Oh, and if there’s ever a reason to open up that wall, we need to watch out for sharp objects – there’s a handheld hole saw that got dropped down there (I’m writing this so that no one can say they didn’t know!)
The brand new dishwasher we’ve waited six weeks for finally arrives on a cold Friday – the same day I realize the snow rake isn’t designed to be used by short people, or blind people… either that or my house is too tall. The massive dishwasher box blocks the pantry door for a day or two, but we’re eating takeout this weekend – skipping the dishes, as we do. The installation, however, doesn’t go as smoothly as the delivery. I hear nothing until 5:00 PM Sunday (the day of the appointment we booked six weeks ago), at which point I’m told that they can’t install today and will be able to reschedule for Tuesday. I decline the offer, and call my friend Keith, who comes by both Sunday and Monday night (due to missing parts) and gives us a crash course on dishwasher installation. I don’t think I could do an entire installation, or explain how it’s done, but I know more than I used to… The first load of dishes that runs through is so quiet that I find myself regularly walking into the kitchen to make sure there’s not a problem. Thankfully, there is no problem, and our dishes get REALLY clean, and we have more time to enjoy the holidays.
December: An Unusual Christmas
It’s proving to be a holiday season unlike any other we have ever experienced. The provincial government has imposed restrictions so that people cannot mix and mingle over the holidays. I take the opportunity to add a few touches to my personal spaces. I completely de-clutter my work space/beading table and even create a couple pieces for the holidays. The old, ratty mat by the back door is replaced with a shiny new one. And the music room receives some TLC in the form of new curtains. I think I need to spend more time there in the coming year.
So, it is just my partner and I for Christmas. In some ways I am glad to miss the hustle and bustle, and in others I miss the mingling. We enjoy Mandarin oranges and chocolate treats. Christmas dinner turns out to be disappointing – the turkey breast we bought turned out to be sandwich meat… Oops! But Keith and his family save Christmas by delivering an emergency supply of prime rib and mashed potatoes and little green balls of death (brussel sprouts) that I normally don’t like but turned out YUMMY! Even though we couldn’t have Christmas dinner all together, I feel blessed to have friends who, over the years, have come to my rescue in ways big and small.
During my time off from work, we alternate between resting and relaxing, and doing things about the house. We decide to be strategic, starting in the kitchen, and working our way towards the other end of the house. It’s not all done, it’s not all perfect, but the kitchen is reorganized and way less cluttered. The caddy, the portable counter-top unit that every single person who has ever been to my house has bumped their hip on at least once, has now been relocated into the living room. Wolfie is not a fan of this new development, because now she can’t hang out in the kitchen and meow at us. And she seems to show no interest in hanging out in the living room and meowing at us. I don’t think I’ll understand that little gray fluffball…
A Few Reflections
When I started this journey of making my house my home, I did so with the hope to make my place both somewhere I would want to live and a place that I could be proud of. I had no illusions that my house would ever become a show place – I’m not the best housekeeper in the world, and my place is old and kinda beat up – but I wanted to have people come over and not worry so much about whether they were politely avoiding comments about the state of it. I’m not sure if I’ve succeeded to this end – looking back I realize I’ve ebbed and flowed in drive and motivation – sometimes with great bursts of productivity and sometimes trying to stop myself from drowning in inertia. I’ve kept a plant alive for almost a year – something that a friend who is no longer with us would be super proud of if she could see it. Perhaps Happy Plant is a lot like me – sometimes bursting forward and sometimes quietly growing in incremental ways.
I’ve done a lot of things myself this year, and a lot more with other people either assisting or directing. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to do everything myself. Maybe, just maybe, there are times to rest in the little things, where small pleasures and small victories are the important ones. This year, like for so many others, hasn’t been the year that I have expected. I have experienced great joy, Wolfie has come home! I have experienced sadness with the loss of friends. I’ve done things I never thought I would do, like actually sort of want to barbecue, or cut the grass. I’m not terrified to go into any part of my home, which honestly was a really big thing for me earlier this year. Maybe, that’s enough. Maybe the symbolic burning of things – like the dishwasher box and the papers I sorted earlier this year – is a way to clear out the old feelings of shame and expectation I’ve carried for so many years.
2021 will also look different – I won’t be running Boston like I thought I would. I don’t know all of what it will bring – I hope it will bring joy and love and peace. All I know is that, as much as it’s up to me, I’ll do what I can to continue this journey of home improvement, and to work on the things within myself that need to shift. I’ve got a few things on the go for 2021 already. My hope is to write more, to have some fun with the writing process, and I have some ideas that I’m excited to share. As I am writing this, I realize that maybe I got what I needed out of 2020 – it’s taken a lot, but given me much as well that I can carry into 2021. Who knows? Maybe in a year, I’ll look back at 2020 and realize that without it, 2021 wouldn’t be the year it will be. So let’s look forward, clinging to hope, doing what we can, wherever we are, and, above all, be kind to ourselves and each other. When it comes time, my home will be ready.