Vacation Happens ... the bad; part two

Koda Bear

On Saturday of our vacation, two days before it was time to go home, I was lying on a pool chair soaking up the sun, and Dorsey was out on a dive. My mornings in Curacao had become predictable like that. The vacation was quite lazy and relaxing, for the most part.

Then Jordie called me, clearly upset, to tell me the bad news. Koda, our 12-year-old female golden retriever, had died. After only displaying normal age-related issues — but nothing major or serious — she just laid down and died after a bout of vomiting during the night. I felt stunned.

My initial concern had been for Jordie, however. He felt bad not only because Koda had died (and he was there to experience it while handling 10 other animals), but that he hadn't wanted to call us and ruin our vacation. I learned later that he had called all around Amarillo trying to find help with what to do with Koda. He couldn't find any, so he finally called me. 

Koda's favorite spot when
we had that chair. 

In my effort to help Jordie, I didn't have deeply upset feelings about Koda's death. That's what I do. I shut off until I can fully comprehend. It's actually a great coping mechanism because I can deal with crises better. 

My first and only thought was to call Rohn Butterfield, Dorsey's ex-wife's husband. Jordie likes Rohn (who was once his Sunday school teacher and had helped him a few times with high school math and science problems), and Rohn and Vicki had had their fair and unfortunate share of experience with losing beloved pets. I knew they would know what to do.  And I knew they would help because that's what they do. 

I called Rohn. Left a message. I called Vicki. Left a message. Probably less than two minutes later, Vicki returned my call, and I explained what had happened and asked for help. They immediately stepped in to take care of Jordie and Koda. I'm not sure I have ever been so grateful. 

After it was all said and done, the gloomy, awful feelings set in. All the what-if's. All the guilt. All the sadness. All the fears for Dorsey and for Indy (Koda's life partner and best friend). I'm sure the people around me at the pool were thinking, "What the heck!? This woman is crying in the middle of such beauty?" 

Mopey Indy needs lots of extra TLC right now.

Telling Dorsey was a miserable experience, too. He had had a great diving experience. And then everything changed for him. Dorsey's dogs are sacred creatures to him. 

I wanted to go home. I wanted to be with Jordie and with Indy. I didn't want to be in Curacao any longer. Vacation was over, as far as I was concerned. We'd had a good time anyway.

But we stayed and tried to make the most of the rest of our time there. In a blanket of sadness, we went through the motions of doing whatever people do on vacation. 

I bawled the last leg of our trip home. We were going home to a house without Koda, who was pretty much the most perfect dog who ever lived. Dorsey called her a "9th degree Golden Retriever." (That's just a silly thing Dorsey does. Indy is somewhat of a 5th or 6th sometimes because he's ... goofily imperfect.)

Gift from my friend Lisa.

As we have gotten ready for Christmas, put up our tree and decorated (that's another story), waded through feelings of loss for my parents, baked, cooked, shopped and wrapped presents, Koda's absence has produced a noticeable pallor in our home and our moods. 

Again, Lisa created and gave us this
memorial of Koda for us. She went through
all my Facebook photos and found the ones
of Koda to put on this cross. 

Jordie picked up Koda's ashes for us last week. We haven't decided what we will do with her yet. We're trying to figure out the most perfect memorial for the most perfect girl dog ever. 

Oh, how we love and will miss that girl! Nothing can or will replace her. She will forever be in our hearts and memories, and I am grateful for the 12 years of unconditional love we received from her.

Vacation Happens ... the good; part one

Such a relaxing time.

Sunset, last night in Curacao

Dinner one night. Outside.

Dorsey and I spent last week in Curacao, an island in the south Caribbean sea, very near to the Venezuelan coast. As the photos indicate, stunning isn't a large enough word to describe the island's water and beaches.

Playa Kalki beach, known for good snorkeling and beauty. 

We chose Curacao because it met criteria — in the travel guides — for our requirements. Good diving (for Dorsey), which the island lived up to; good food (yeah, mostly ... I had the best chocolate molten cake ever); good shopping (I have no idea ... I didn't even try it because I just wanted to stay on the beaches and relax); and BEAUTIFUL BEACHES.

As for the shopping, we did tour the downtown shopping area on Sunday when most everything was closed. Downtown Willemstad reminded me of a cross between New York City and New Orleans.  Just like that. I'm not sorry we didn't shop, though. Relaxation and beautiful views met my needs.

I was somewhat obsessed with the cat-sized
iguanas all over the Marriott resort. 

 The Marriott Resort was nice. I enjoyed the beach, the pool and the service, although I wonder a little bit what staying at the Renaissance might have been like. It could have changed the entire focus of my stay (not Dorsey's; diving was his thing). The Renaissance (also a Marriott) is located in/near downtown Willemstad, where there is more bustle and shopping.

View from a restaurant of the Renaissance Hotel's beach side.

We always stay at Marriott's when we travel because Dorsey gathers so many frequent stay points through his travels that we end up staying on points wherever we go. (Job perk!)

Like other islands we've visited, tourism is Curacao's life force. Otherwise, poverty abounds on the island. Driving is a nightmare for those of us who have learned to rely on Siri. The streets are not marked!!! So when Siri says to turn left or right on such-and-such street (in Dutch, by the way), we have no idea what that street is. No signs! Who does that?

Dutch is the predominant language, although most locals also speak English. We just couldn't read many signs or directions. Oh, well. We're still alive, right? And we managed to eat the food we intended. :-)

This one came to visit me and stayed awhile
one morning.

 The travel guide said the locals were friendly. I found that true with the staff at the hotel and restaurants, but not so much with just everyday people doing their thing. The driving rivals that of Amarillo drivers. RUDE! And I didn't notice much courtesy to pedestrians. Oh, well. Guess those islanders don't appreciate the money tourists bring to their beautiful but poverty-stricken home. 

OK, wait. I noticed that if we said "hello" first, we received a friendly "hello" in return.  Another thing we noticed is the lack of haste to eat and run. The meal experience usually took about two hours. Waitstaff didn't care to hurry us or anyone else out of our seats, no matter what type of restaurant. That was a strange experience! So unAmerican!!

This was our vantage point.

Perhaps the most unusual experience occurred on Morning Number One. We jumped out of bed and headed straight for the beach first thing.

DEAD BODY!

Yep, he wasn't even covered yet. So we and everyone else watched the hotel staff scramble to put barriers around his body with lounge chairs and a couple of towels. This lasted about two hours as staff guarded the body and waited for "CSI: Curacao" to show up. Finally, the poor guy's body was removed.

I found out later from the massage therapist — who was super nice and good, but still not as good as Amarillo man Larry Brooks at Relaxation Station — that the man was a local, and cause of death was uncertain. Drowning is the predominant theory, although the man was 78 years old. I'm assuming it wasn't foul play, based on the way things played out that morning. Sad.

Overall, the vacation provided much-needed downtime for Dorsey and me after the year of constant change and loss we've had. It was really the first time either of us relaxed, I think.

Dorsey and I like to compare the islands we've been to — he's visited more — and we still say St. Kitt's is our favorite so far. That trip with Kim and Vince over my birthday in 2008 was epic. As for Curacao, we will check this one off the list and relish the fun memories we've been blessed with.

(But soon we will be searching for the next Caribbean island to visit — although I've demanded that the next major vacation is Italy ... and there are beaches there, so Dorsey should be just fine.)

Stay tuned for part 2 ... the bad that attempted to ruin vacation and all the philosophizing that goes with it ...

Tin Cats — My New Life

Blanket chest, ca. 1810-1820, original paint. Love.

Wooden bowl full of stone fruit. 

My new life and business venture — Tin Cats Antiques — officially make me an antiques dealer of early American furniture and decor. (Actually, what we call decor today is what early settlers meant for practical use.)

Tin tray, tin cookie cutters, coffee grinder,
tin and pewter measuring and serving ware —
All were staples of the 18th & 19th centuries. 

 I have bought and will continue to collect items from the 1800s and 1700s.  I have lots of decor and pieces of furniture (although while I have claimed and purchased the furniture, not all is in my current possession — it's a long way to New England from here!).

Pantry boxes, both painted and of natural wood, stored just about
anything and everything. And who could have
imagined a pestle and mortar as decor?

I do not and will not have a shop, but instead will travel to shows and sell through my web site. Dorsey is currently in the process of creating that. My first big show will be at the end of March/first of April in Round Top. Yeah ... the big one. How exciting is that!? For me, it's huge.

I first had experience with Round Top through my mother-in-law, Mary. Dorsey's parents were antiques dealers of the same period and style of antiques that I am doing. When I went with Mary the first time in 1999 or 2000, I thought that was the most exciting thing I had ever experienced, and I wanted to do it. I fell in love with the style and knew I someday wanted a house full of 18th and 19th century furniture. Thanks to Mary, Dorsey and I have always had a few pieces.

Salt boxes were hung on the wall and stored — salt!

And while I loved the idea of making a career in antiques, I never believed it would be possible for me. I was wrong, because it became possible, and it is possible, and it is happening.

This is a spice cabinet, also hung on the wall; each drawer held its own spice.
This apothecary has seen a lot of time, use and heat.

More pantry boxes, a checker board, candle box and yet another wooden bowl. 

Shaker boxes demonstrate the amazing carpentry skills of the Shakers.

I've always loved our dining room "farm" table and Windsor chairs.
These aren't for sale ... at least not any time soon. Unless you want to offer me double their worth —
THEN I might sell them. ;-)

There you have it. I can't wait for the web site to be ready and able to display my inventory. This is going to be a fun, hard and rewarding ride. I am so, so grateful for this opportunity — and I've always wanted to spend extended periods of time in New England —another dream coming true.

I've said it before, but I'll say this again ... it's amazing to me how in the middle of something devastating and sad, God can and does create blessings. In my case, he resurrected a desire that has sat dormant in the recesses of my heart for many years.

The Good and the Bad of Coping with Firsts

It's been almost two months since I updated this blog. I've been in a world of reliving and coping with the events of last year that occurred around this time: Mom's birthday, Mom's stroke that devastated our world, Dad's birthday, Thanksgiving, Mom's move from BSA rehab —where we still had hope — to Hillside Heights (Hell Hole Heights). I remember decorating in earnest Mom's new room at HH. I wanted it to be as festively Christmas as possible for her. I wanted her to experience how much we love her.

And I remember Dad's dramatic decline in health, and Mom's change from being our mom to somewhat like a small and confused special-needs child, and then moments of clarity as our mom. I also remember the thousands of questions and the stress Kim and I felt as we tried to find answers for the future living arrangements of our parents.

For awhile, we had hope for Mom, because she was in the rehab part of HH. Little did we know what was about to happen after insurance said, "'Buh bye, bitches! Her life is over to us, so we are done," and made her move to long-term care (AKA, nursing home).

But that's not yet. Christmas is still coming, so I'll stop with the dreadful memories.

Kim and I (successfully) maneuvered through the birthdays and Thanksgiving, albeit tearfully. I've discovered that since Mom and Dad's initial passing in May, coping has become more difficult again. More tears than usual. More pleas to God for visits from my parents. More unpleasant memories of this time last year. I'm just there again, until I fight my way back to now and the blessings of my life — and the knowledge that all is well with Mom and Dad.

On November 24 — Dorsey's birthday — the Randall High School basketball teams had their season openers at home. Between the girls' game and the boys' game, the school (which would be Principal Steve Williams, boys' coach Leslie Broadhurst, and long-time "House of Doom" game announcer Chris Albracht) took time to recognize and honor my dad for his accomplishments and contributions to Randall, particularly to girls' basketball. Kim and I, along with Jordie, Cole, Vince and Dorsey, stood on the court while Chris read the most beautiful tribute — and "the fire hydrant story." (Stay tuned at the end). I wasn't tearful. I still needed time to process things. (The next day was quite awful, actually. But therapeutic. Things happen as they should.)

The most poignant moment happened when Chris asked everyone to "stand in a moment of silence for Coach Jim Wilcoxson one last time." (I'm even breaking down as I type that.) While I seemed to be in my own world during the presentation, other members of my family noticed, and were impressed and touched by, the dead silence and attention to this tribute to our dad and granddad. The audience. The boys on both teams. Everyone, whether or not they knew Dad. Such amazing respect.

What a beautiful thing Randall did for our dad and granddad. I will be forever grateful.

And so here I am. Here Kim and I are, about to face Christmas, the holiday that has always centered around our parents, where traditions run deep. What to do and how to do it? We don't know. We just will because that's what people do. Everyone who's ever loved someone close will have to or has had to face that year of "firsts." They do it, and we'll do it. Because that's just part of the circle of life.

>>> I have to interject that Thanksgiving was a different deal. For most of our lives, we spent Thanksgiving day playing in basketball tournaments and watching basketball, from my playing days until the day Dad retired. Jordie spent (spends) Thanksgiving with his Dad and his side of the family, and Kim has always spent Thanksgiving with Vince's family. So this year, Dorsey and I spent Thanksgiving at home and with our friend Dow. <<<

Christmas Eve and Christmas day will be the high hurdle of all hurdles for us — at least so far.

So here I sit and type. I haven't yet decorated for Christmas, and it's Dec. 2. But I don't care. There are no rules. Dorsey and I leave for Curacao next week. Maybe I'll decorate when we get back? I need to for Jordie's sake. I suppose we need to be as "normal" as possible.

But interestingly and very God-like, life hasn't been all bad and grief-stricken. I've also embarked on and been engrossed with a new life and business venture that has begun for me — and I'm so excited I can barely contain myself. I've never felt so joyful about something in my life. How can one be so miserable and so happy at once? Life is funny that way. (I will share soon.)

I hope not to wait another two months to write again. It's felt pretty good. :-)

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"The Fire Hydrant"

It was the first time for Jim Wilcoxson to coach against girls' basketball coaching legend DEAN WEESE from Levelland. Levelland had long been Canyon's rival in this game, and when Randall High School was born, it didn't take long for Randall to "hate" Levelland, too. It was WAR on the floor between Levelland and the schools of Canyon ISD.

Weese had won many, many — and I say many — state championships. Levelland was to be feared and revered! The first time Randall and Levelland played, Wilcoxson's team — the Randall Lady Raiders — won. (I was there. It was the most unbelievable, exciting, amazing thing I had ever experienced. Loud. Packed. Crazy. I remember how the Randall fans went wild at the buzzer. Truly one of the best days ever in the Wilcoxson family. The Lady Raiders went on to win the 1992 State Championship.)

After the game, Coach Weese was understandably not happy about the game's outcome. As coaches always do after ballgames, Weese and Wilcoxson met to shake hands. Wilcoxson, who never liked anyone to be unhappy and who had great respect and admiration for Weese, said to Weese: "Don't worry about it, Dean. Every once in awhile, the fire hydrant pees on the dog."

Yep, that's typical Wilcoxson. 

That's my dad. Oh, how I miss him and his stories and jokes.