Where Did that Tree Come From?

They said it couldn't be done! I've had a few brushes with my orange Saturn Vue, but not because I collided with the two trees in the middle of my driveway. I wasn't feeling so hot when we decided to move to Scottsdale--depression had surfaced, and my concentration rivaled a three-year-old's--so I decided to minimize my losses by going for location, location, location. And Scottsdale is, as any snotty Arizonan can tell you, prime real estate. Yesiree, it is! So I figured I had done my job of selecting a house just by picking out the neighborhood. The rest I left up to my husband and fate. So what if an extra room in one house could only be accessed via a steep 20-step staircase? There was a gorgeous jacaranda tree in front (it blooms for at least 20 minutes every year). That more than made up for any knee or hip injury climbing up and down. Then there was the house that kept getting larger every time you walked through it. Did I really need three spare rooms for the maid, the cook, and the butler? Like that was gonna happen anytime soon!! Which is why I ended up with a unique driveway. I settled. Besides I like a challenge. No one I know has trees in their driveway so that means I get the award for bravery. They--the trees, that is--guarantee that I'm never drunk when pulling into my garage. I never have to worry about ramming my side mirror because I'm going verrry slowwwly so as not to scrape my beloved trees. The trees also are guaranteed nests for colorful singers who decorate our driveway with gunk you wouldn't want your worst enemy to step in. Still, somehow a driveway with two trees that whirl and swirl during monsoons and drop their leaves during a hard frost is appropriate for a dysfunctional kid from a dysfunctional family. What do you think?

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Should Old Acquaintances Be Forgot?

In the Scottish dialect of the old New Year's Eve song Auld Lang Syne, the composer posits the question: Should old acquaintances be forgot? The short answer to this is "Sometimes." One example will suffice. A "friend" of mine emailed me the other day and although she is not a writer, her words spoke plenty. Her first rebuke was that I don't answer her calls, and this is a claim I cannot deny. But the accusation was caustic, mean-spirited--it was as if I had neglected to visit her in the hospital, that's how grievous my omission was. She insinuated so much by those few harsh words. Why did she call? Purportedly to inform me of her physical status and that of her dog Murph. Being the obedient child I still am, I did call her afterwards, and we spoke. Mostly S spoke of her new illness--osteoarthritis of the spine--and her dog's possible diagnosis of valley fever. I listened and listened and listened until I just couldn't take it any more. The...

Dogs and Cats: Tales that Strike Terror in the Hearts of Owners

I just returned from the #veterinarian with Maddie, my eight-year-old #schnauzer with valley fever. She's on a half dose of her meds, and we're seeing if this has any positive or negative influence on the course of the #disease. Valley fever is a plague in the Southwest, especially Arizona, and it's one of the crazier #fungal diseases out there. For instance, Maddie never showed any #discernible symptoms but when I chanced to test her for the disease, she showed a high titre. So either the test was really wrong-----about three times in a row--or else Maddie's immune system is so good that it's #clobbering the disease but not ridding the body of it. This is a long way of stating the obvious. Although dogs like Maddie as well as cats, miniature horses and even bunnies are regularly being used as #therapy animals at nursing homes, hospitals, schools, and all kinds of venues, they also are capable of traumatizing people or just plain breaking their heart. Wai...

Part 12 OCS Sib: a Saga that Sucks

To refresh your mind, the last time we saw my sib (the OCS I've profiled here), everyone was celebrating my niece's wedding. I'm staying at my mom's condo, so I hang out with her new friends, a couple about her age who recently moved into her residential community. As we talk, I gather a few more clues about my mom's physical and mental condition. She is now having problems telling time, and she calls up her new friends many times a day. The news isn't good. I fear the worst. Over the next few months Mom has to recuperate from a heart attack, and my sib and I agree that an assisted living facility should be the next move. Up to now the sib and I are more or less on the same page. Soon this change. When finances rear their ugly heads, I learn that somehow my sister has prevailed on my mother to sign over all her monies and house to my sister. All documents are now in my sib's name. The condo will be up for sale, and my sister has deposited my mom's inh...

The Dysfunctional Family

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