Four years ago today, I wrote this little ditty on Facebook. It appeared in today’s “Memories” offering. I thought it not terrible and decided to share it here today. So…to some thoughts from August 13, 2017.
Dispatch from Solitude
The three women who so thoroughly enliven my life are deep in the Balkans on holiday, pursuing an agenda that an Army Corps logistician would envy. Their photos are automatically uploaded to the cloud through some sort of sorcery of which I am only partially aware, and I can view them at my leisure. There are a goodly number of photos featuring dragons; wrought iron, plaster, cement, large, small, you name it. Apparently, at one point, “there be dragons” there. I like that.
Life here on the farm is always quite slow, but it becomes glacial when they are gone. I pack up and move my professional life from the (dark, dank, smelly) mancave to a little card table I set up in the bedroom (airy, light, not smelly), and I spend an awful lot of each day here. Moving from the bed, to the card table, to the couch, I am interrupted only by journeys into the kitchen to check on/play with the dogs or for a drive to the gym. The dogs present a singular problem for me. You see, when I’m in my office all day or across the bay in the big city, I don’t have much concern for them. I suppose they spend their time doing things dogs do. But when I am “in loco parentis”, I worry about them quite a bit. Specifically, whether I am holding up my end of the bargain. Their appetite for human (my) company seems unquenchable, so when I don’t give it to them, I wonder whether lasting damage is occurring to my place in the pack and their little dogganalities.
The cats on the other hand, seem fine with the new arrangement. We have a new kitten (Miss Moppet) who provides a great deal of mirth through her spastic movements and general awe at virtually everything she encounters. A trouser-leg hanging from the back of a chair takes on great wonder as something to be attacked and mauled. She is a wonderful little cat, and has picked up a habit of snuggling up between my chin and my chest when I lie on my side in bed. I’m still assessing this habit.
We had a little scare the other night, when the good people of Talbot County Emergency Services called the house at around 11:15PM, with a recorded message telling me to “TAKE IMMEDIATE COVER--A TORNADO HAS BEEN SPOTTED IN YOUR AREA”. Not needing to hear this twice, I hung up, grabbed both cats (Bagheera, the other) and moved into an interior room in the house away from windows. I shut them in the room, then went and got the dogs. The four of us hunkered down and watched the storm move south of us. After about 45 minutes all was clear and we went back to our respective beds. Interestingly enough, things whipped up quite a bit again last night--but thankfully, no Hurricane Warnings.
My solitude is helping me to eat better, but in poorer company. When I cook for the family, I still cook pretty healthy meals, but I strive to have something “to go along” with the main course. When they’re gone, I just skip the side dishes and have only the main. I spatchcocked a nice chicken tonight and ate half of it, unaccompanied. Eating is a very social thing for me, so mealtimes are when I miss the ladies most. I grew up in a family of six kids, and meals were raucous affairs. When people ask me what I miss most about the Navy, I answer “lunch”. Here in Easton, we have a restaurant called Brasserie Brightwell, a French joint with a “kitchen counter” abutting the kitchen. I’ve been there twice since the kittens left, because I like the food, and because I enjoy the banter among the chefs.
August is characteristically brutal here, but the heat this August simply hasn’t been a problem. We’ve been in the mid-80’s most of the month and it looks like it will stay that way for the immediate future. When I decamped here to join this little troupe nine and a half years ago, we had no air conditioning, something with which I could not abide. Catherine considered it a sign of my weakness that I needed A/C, and she’s probably right. In the negotiations surrounding when we would use it (we installed it during a renovation), I did a little research and estimated that from June through September, 87 degrees was the average high. So if it is forecast to be above 87, the AC is on. Below 87, we turn it off. I find that I actually enjoy turning it off and throwing the windows open. When we renovated, we put a lot of glass in the house, and plenty of fans. Technically, I should have had the house open since they left (based on climate data), but no one is holding me to the deal.
Truth be told, I like being alone--every now and then and for finite periods. I enjoy immersion in total selfishness, rising when I wish, watching what I wish, eating what I wish, and doing what I wish. But then, I face the overwhelming wish that they were here, because a thought occurred to me that I really wanted to share. Or because one of the animals did something amazing. Or because I miss their smiles and their laughter and the way our ad hoc family works. Only 11 more days.