Poor Lucy and Her Traumatic Beauty Shop Experience

Every so often I have to take Lucy to the groomers for a haircut. I don’t like to do it, mostly because I hate leaving her with strangers anywhere for half the day, but also because she never looks right when I get her back. First of all, she’s a Golden. She’s supposed to have frills, fringes and a poof of a tail. She’s not a lab, for heavens sake. But eventually Goldens can get a bit out of control with the fringes and what not, so you take her over to Petsmart and drop her off at 10:00 in the morning and await the text informing you that she is ready.

They promise you that she will get a luxurious bath complete with some sort of milk conditioner, a thorough teeth brushing, and a nail grinding, plus a fresh haircut. When you drop her off, the stylist points out that Lucy has several mats on her belly which must be dealt with first. I was aware of the existence of these mats, a rarity for Lucy, but the primary reason I have her at the groomers in the first place. I’m figuring that if her hair has gotten long and shaggy enough to develop mats, its time for a cut. No need to worry, I am assured by the perky stylist, she will take care of everything.

The text comes at 1:45. I drop everything and dash over to Petsmart full of nervous apprehension. Poor Lucy has been cooped up over there for nearly 4 hours. What the heck were they doing for four hours? I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine.

Ok. When they bring her out the first thing that comes out of my mouth is “Um..why did you cut her hair so SHORT?” 

Immediately, the stylist launches into a long and unnecessarily technical dissertation about how tricky mat-shaving can be, how to make everything blend in she was forced to cut her hair “a little” shorter than usual. I was so distracted by her absence of frills and fringes that I completely missed the total hack job that was done on her ears. Poor Lucy was mortified with the shame of it all, refusing to perk her ears up no matter what the provocation happened to be on the ride home. Its as if she knew that her ears were a train wreck and the poor girl didn’t want to draw any attention to them!

Normally, this is what frilly, fringy Lucy looks like:

Here she is post hack job:

The good news is that we don’t leave for Maine for 44 more days. Maybe she will look like her old self by then. But for now, she is quite upset with her grooming experience. Any condolence comments you all can offer up will be read aloud to her in an attempt to cheer the poor girl up. 

Thank You!

Max and Patron

Got back home yesterday afternoon after a fabulous few days away only to discover that I now have a new deadly virus to lose my mind over…Monkeypox. If that wasn’t bad enough I then see a headline about how Southern Baptist leaders have been stonewalling and denigrating sex abuse victims within the denomination for years, according to some third party investigative report. The trifecta of horribleness took the form of a recent poll that states that more Americans care about the Johnny Depp v Amber Heard trial than care about abortion or the war in Ukraine…combined.

Impossible as it might seem for things to get any worse, I then discover a story about a new low to which the Russian armed forces have fallen…

Meet “Max”, the Belgian Malinois special forces dog who was abandoned by the Russian army and left to starve. Ukrainian forces found Max and nursed him back to health, taught the super smart dog to understand Ukrainian commands and have now redeployed him as a bomb sniffer where he is doing great work and has become a soldier favorite. In doing so, Max has joined the ranks of many medal-winning canines in service to Ukraine, none more famous than this guy:

This is “Patron”, a Jack Russell terrier who was recently awarded a medal for meritorious service to the Ukrainian nation by his heroic and tireless efforts to find Russian land mines. Patron—who’s name translates in English to “bullet”— weighs in at a mere 4K which means that his weight does not trigger the mines. However, this also means that his handlers have to be careful giving him treats. The picture of Patron receiving his medal has been one of the most popular photographs of the entire war in Ukraine…

One more thing…a shoutout has to go out to my sweet cousin Peggy. When I got back home there was an envelope addressed to me in her handwriting. When I opened it there was a note from Peggy who had been going through some old things belonging to her mother, my aunt, Mary. One of the things she found was our wedding invitation from 1984. She had enclosed it in the envelope and sent it to us to fondly remember during our anniversary. One of the sweetest, most thoughtful things anyone has done for us in a long time. Love you, Cousin.

What We’ve Been Up To

So, today was amazing and fun. We decided to rent a couple of bikes and ride over to Assateague Island and do the wildlife loop trail. It was a delightful 74 degrees and sunny at 9:00 am when we peddled out of the Bike Depot on Chincoteague. We hadn’t made it a quarter mile before I got my first reprimand from Pam who was behind me. She took exception to me showing her how I could ride with no hands. The woman has zero sense of humor when it comes to my brand of high jinx, something that has caused her 38 years of indigestion. She probably wasn’t thrilled when she saw me attempt this selfie while we were on the trail, but it just had to be done…

It should be pointed out that numerous times I offered to surrender the point to her, but each time she refused, while muttering something like, “no, no…you go ahead. Just try a little harder not to give me a heart attack”

Anyway, about halfway through the loop trail there was a brief detour that took you close to the beach. Once there, you were asked to park your bike and walk the hundred yards or so over the dunes to see the view. When we crested the dunes, this is what we saw:

As far as the eye could see in both directions, untouched, unspoiled beach. Way off in the distance to the north we spotted one human being. It was breathtaking. We just walked around for a while taking pictures and smiling…

I finally got Pam to take the point on the home stretch…

One of the themes of this trip has been, down here, we eat kinda what we want, when we want it. Since Pam had eaten no breakfast before our 7.5 mile bike ride she was psyched to get back to the condo for a cup of fat-free yogurt sprinkled with all-bran that had her name on it. But in a surprising development opted for Mister Whippy instead…

…where haute cuisine meets island shabby.

As soon as we woofed these guys down we turned in our bikes, then drove back to the condo to apply some sunscreen, and headed back to the beach where all the human beings are. Once there we lunched on some really high quality kettle corn, Cheetos and washed it all down with Mountain Dew. Tonight we have reservations at AJ’s on the Creek, a nice restaurant, which we are assured, serves real food. It is pour intention to order an appetizer of questionable nutritional value, a couple of calorie-drenched entree’s which come with a 25% off coupon for your first by-pass operation, then indulge our sweet tooth with ice cream from the Island Creamery, who’s slogan reads, “Well, you’ve gotta die of something!”

Day One

There is an estuary just off the back of our condo in Chincoteague which is filled and emptied by the tides. When we arrived yesterday it had been reduced to a thin and shallow stream and a wide bed of mud teaming with life. When we got back from dinner it was three feet deep, reflecting moonbeams that lit up the grassy marsh. Now at 5:30 in the morning, it is emptying out again, the starlings flitting this way and that all along the water’s surface, while the sun lights up the eastern sky in the distance…

Speaking of dinner, our’s was delightful. We had the Bada Bing Shrimp appetizer at the Ropewalk Restaurant and could have left happy after that alone. Then they brought us the entree, a scallop feast on a bed of rice with lump crab meat and tomatoes…

Of course, after dinner we were obligated by the forces of nature and nature’s God to visit the Island Creamery for prodigious helpings of ice cream served on home made waffle cones.

Consequently, today will feature much outdoor exercise to make restitution for last night’s epicurean delights. A good thing since I feel certain that tonight will feature similar deliciousness.

I hate to mention this considering what our Short Pump friends will have to endure today, but today the forecast is for partly sunny skies and 72 degrees.

In a World Where You Can Be Anything…Be Kind

A word about my Aunt’s funeral today.

My brother Donnie was asked by the family to perform the service. He drove down from Maryland and did a wonderful job. Over the last several years since he retired, my brother has taken up being a professional encourager. I only recently leaned that he would call Emma every Monday morning to talk. She had been battling cancer for four years, perhaps that was why he called her so faithfully. At the service he deadpanned, “Hey, I’m retired now, I’ve got nothing else to do.” But I’m sure it meant the world to her. Because he and Emma had music in common, he would often play her his latest composition over the phone. So, at the funeral he played and sang a couple of her favorite hymns, then closed the service out with a wonderful, haunting arrangement of Wayfaring Stranger. In between the music, he retold some of Emma’s favorite stories from when she was growing up on the farm with my Dad. It was a lovely time spent with cousins and my brother and sisters.

But perhaps the most incredible thing about the funeral was what I learned about Aunt Emma that I was clueless about. I mentioned in yesterday’s blog that she was in a semi-famous country and western band back in the late 50’s and early 60’s called the Country Cavaliers. What I learned today at her funeral was just how much of a freaking big deal she was!! I walked in to the Bliley’s chapel over on Hull Street road and saw a big screen right above her casket upon which  a series of photographs were scrolling by, shots of Emma as a teenager, pictures of her and her sister and my Dad when they were just kids. But then, out of the blue, I see a picture of Emma looking movie-star gorgeous standing next to a smiling…Willie Nelson!! It was back when he had short hair and no beard, but it was Willie Nelson, or at least I thought it was. Then the next shot goes up. This one has Emma cozied up with Johnny Cash. The next thing I know, a succession of pictures of my beautiful Aunt Emma with a cavalcade of country music legends…Buck Owens, Porter Wagoner, Lester Flatt, Earl Scruggs. It was only then that I discovered that the Country Cavaliers served as the house band for the New Dominion Barn Dance which aired every Saturday night of WTVR for eleven years. In those years Emma’s band often played and sang backup for these stars whenever they came through town. Amazing.

But, here’s the best thing about the service. Everyone who spoke kept saying the same thing, using the exact same word to sum up who Emma was. that word was…Kind. That’s the word I think of when remembering her, but I knew her well when I was just a child. But apparently, it was no act because that’s all anyone could talk about today, how kind she was. What a glorious legacy for any human being.

My daughter probably doesn’t remember Emma, but as a teacher down in Columbia, South Carolina she has a slogan of sorts and she keeps it on display in her classroom and on her social media pages. Here’s what it says…

“In a World Where You Can Be Anything…Be Kind.”

Thanks, Aunt Emma for leading the way.

Attending a Funeral

I’ll be attending a funeral on Tuesday. My Dad’s youngest sister passed away last week. Most of my interactions with Emma were during my childhood, our lives having gone in different directions since the early 60’s. But she made a big impression on me back then that I have never forgotten.

I was four or five years old. My Dad was attending the University of Richmond full time during the day while working at Reynolds Metals on the graveyard shift. Every morning I would sit in the backseat of my Dad’s Plymouth with a guy named Jan LaPierre who was also a student at UofR, as we drove to Emma’s house, where Dad would drop me off to spend the day with Aunt Emma and my cousin Danny. As a bonus, my grandparents lived in a trailer in the back yard of Emma’s house. This went on for many months and years until I became old enough to attend school. Here’s what I remember from the experience.

For a five year old boy, Aunt Emma was the closest thing to a movie star that I knew. First of all, she was beautiful. Secondly, she was an actual star, the lead singer of the Country Cavaliers, a semi-famous country band in Richmond in the late 50’s and early 60’s. (Think Patsy Cline, only prettier). But the thing I remember most about Emma was her big smile and how incredibly kind she was. Every morning I was greeted with a warm hug and a kiss on the top of my head. Then after she had made sure that Danny and I had eaten a decent breakfast, the two of us were let loose to terrorize the neighborhood unsupervised with the only instructions being, “Make sure you are both back here for lunch!” Ahh yes, the early 60’s—when the most popular parenting style was benign neglect. Danny and I had great fun outside all day. Lunch was always delicious. Since Danny was an only child I remember he always had super cool toys and playing at his house was like an Adventureland. Then late in the afternoon, right before Dad would pull into the driveway to pick me up, Danny and I would gather around my grandmother’s kitchen table for our afternoon snack—peanut butter graham crackers and cold milk.

But it was Aunt Emma who always made us feel safe. I could always sense, even as a five year old that she loved me. Nothing bad would happen to me at Aunt Emma’s. She wouldn’t allow it.

So, I will attend the funeral today. I will reunite briefly with Danny and many of my other cousins from the Dunnevant side of the family. I will not be sad. There is no reason for sadness. Emma was a lovely woman, someone worth celebrating.

Friday the 13th

Whenever you’ve endured a truly terrible week, then wake up to the realization that it’s Friday the 13th, the sensation churning in your stomach is not a pleasant one! In my line of work, there aren’t many weeks as difficult as this one has been. The sell-off in the stock markets has been unrelenting and nerve-wracking. Your forty years of experience assures you that it’s temporary. History, not to mention the actual record, promises a full and complete recovery in time. Still, because we are human beings with beating hearts and not soulless machines, our stomachs churn. “In time, you say? How much time??” The answer is unknowable. But, that unknowability is the reason why long term investors in stock markets are so highly compensated. The price you pay for high returns is that churning stomach.

Friday the 13th is the least of my worries. It’s just another day on the calendar. Aside from the alleged bad luck assigned to it by the poets, it is a Friday which for me brings relief since after 4:00 this afternoon the world’s stock markets will take a 65 hour break. We all will stop obsessing over it, turning our attention elsewhere to more fulfilling projects. Hopefully we will have the opportunity to watch a beautiful sunset while we ponder how it is that a fluctuating number on our balance sheet has such power over our sense of well being. I will spend some time planning for my wedding anniversary weekend getaway next week. We will have been together for 38 years. I think we will spend some time over in Chincoteague. One of the great things about her is that she fell in love with me when my balance sheet was zero. She stayed in love with me during the six years when every spare dime we had went to educate our kids. Now that the coffers are full—although not as much as they were 5 months ago!—she loves me no less than she ever has.