Caleigh O'Shea's Blog

The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too. ~Samuel Butler, English novelist and critic

One of the magazines I casually glanced through many years ago had a regular feature section called “Who Wears It Better?”

Apparently, the compiler photographed two celebrities on separate occasions sporting very similar outfits, yet one invariably came up short.

Maybe the style wasn’t as flattering on them as on the other person; maybe the color or accessories were wrong.

Anyway, I remembered a photo I’d taken of Dallas (circa 2016) and decided to see my two Shelties side by side in glasses. Monk is on the left; Dallas is on the right.

So, who wears those spectacles better?

Love and a cough cannot be hid. ~Proverb

There once was a saucy butterfly
Who clung to a bush by and by
He fluttered his wings
And did everything
To catch a pretty miss’s eye.

Note: Poetry form is Limerick.

For even worse than laziness of body is laziness of the mind and heart. ~May Sinclair, British novelist, poet, and critic

A few days ago, I went to WalMart to pick up some things I needed, and I came out so disgusted and angry I was ready to throttle somebody.

Anybody.

Here’s what happened — and I’ll be interested in hearing if you (as intelligent, well-meaning readers) feel the same way, or if I’m way off base:

I’d finished shopping and was searching for a place to check out.

The self-service lanes were only partially open, and most of the associate-operated lanes were three or four carts deep, but finally, I noticed an empty lane.

Pulling in, I found a young associate playing on her phone.

She looked up, glared at me (that I’d dared interrupt her important business, I guess), and proceeded to ring my items up.

Not a word crossed her lips.

No “Hello.” No “Did you find everything you were looking for?” Not even a “Isn’t it hot outside?”

Nothing.

When she’d finished (basically cramming my things into bags that should’ve been separated so I could carry them), she mumbled the total.

And then she practically tossed the receipt at me, saying, “Here ya go.”

No “Thank you for shopping with us.” No “Have a nice rest of your day.” No “I’m having a rotten day, and I’m sorry to take it out on you.”

Nothing.

Now I haven’t been living in a cave for the past two decades. I know things in our country (and world, actually) are pretty sorry for a lot of people.

Too many folks are out of work (or under-employed). Too many folks don’t seem to know how to relate to others anymore (blame it on the pandemic … or social media).

But this girl looked well fed. Well clothed. And she had a job.

Maybe it wasn’t the job she wanted — or thought she deserved. But, handled properly, it was a job that could keep her off the streets, living in a tent with a shopping cart of her things nearby.

WalMart employees earn about $18 an hour. Which doesn’t sound like much, but if she’d wanted the Big Bucks, she’d have gone to college or technical school.

Perhaps she wasn’t completely and properly trained. Perhaps she never should’ve been hired in the first place. And there must be a place in Heaven for employees with a positive attitude, eagerness to learn, basic friendliness, and industriousness.

Am I stretching too far to see a connection between society’s constant reliance on cell phones and an increase in laziness of mind, heart, and spirit?

Some school districts seem to think so and have banned mobile devices during school hours. Shouldn’t businesses do the same?

He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass. ~Proverb

My mama snaps a photo
As I sit and do my pose
She says that these are peonies
She might be right. Who knows?

Yes, they’re pretty, Mama,
You’re right about that, indeed.
But aren’t you forgetting something
Upon which we earlier agreed?

I said I’d pose for your camera
If you’d reward me in turn;
One special treat is all I ask,
Your forgetting that is a concern.

But I won’t hold it against you —
I’m forgiving just that way.
Next time, bring the good treats,
And maybe I’ll look your way!

Note: Poetry form is some kind of rhyming quatrains, I think.

 

 

He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for anything else. ~Proverb

I Monkey here.

Did you know National Dog Day occurred on Aug. 26 (as it does every year)?

Bet not, right?

Did you celebrate with a furry friend or two?

No? I Monkey thought as much.

You all are as bad as Mama.

Now, I Monkey realize these “pretend holidays” that have been added to the calendar to give folks something to post to Instagram, Facebook, and the like aren’t as well-known as, say, Christmas or St. Patrick’s Day.

But I can’t give Mama a pass on neglecting this one. After all, I distinctly heard the Alexa thingamajig tell her that morning about the holiday. And I know her computer had promptings, too.

Did we celebrate? Did I get extra treats? Did I get to go on an adventure, maybe to the Petsmart to pick out a new toy?

No, no, and no.

Humph.

Now, in Mama’s defense, she did take me on a nice walk, and she did give me treats when we practiced my Puppy School commands. And she did hang around home most of the day, keeping me company, rather than taking off on a solo adventure.

But what about “just because” treats? I’ve been awfully good lately, so why didn’t I get them?

Well, Mama claims she can’t afford to give me fattening treats anymore because I’m turning into a “chunker.”

Humph. Fat-shaming, I say.

I mean, finally, I’m able to enjoy and keep my food down (because of the stomach problems I had when I was a little monkey), so a few extra pounds shouldn’t be looked at askance.

Mama says around here, every day is Dog Day. And don’t tell her, but she’s got a point. She did celebrate International Sheltie Day on June 1, after all.

But for those organized folks who’d like to celebrate National Dog Day next year, here are some suggestions to tuck into your planner:

Donate to your local animal shelter, stuff like towels, blankets, toys, or cashWalk a dog whose owner has trouble with that sort of thing (perhaps due to surgery or old age)Spend extra time with your own dog doing fun stuffDrive through the bank and get a pup treat for your dogPuppy massageSpend time brushing your dog (or take him to a spa)Bake puppy treats (recipes are online)

Arose early, went out to flirt with the flowers. ~Thomas Edison, American inventor and businessman, diary, 1885

My blogging friend Eliza regularly participates in something called In A Vase On Monday, sponsored by Cathy at Rambling in the Garden.

I love those posts — the creativity and the beauty — but I’m reluctant to cut the posies from my yard (or somebody else’s!) for fear the mother plant would die.

Instead, I thought I’d capture a few late summer flowers and share their individual beauty with you. Please enjoy!

Pretty in pink:

A mass of tiny yellow flowers:

Have you ever seen an aqua flower? I hadn’t either:

Doesn’t this look like Fall:

These are Zinnias. Aren’t they striking:

Tiny white flowers make me think of Spring:

But this one says Fall, don’t you think:

And who can resist blue flowers:

Look who’s dining at this butterfly bush:

Last, but not least, don’t you love these:

Happy Labor Day, my friends!

it may be dreadful to be old but it’s worse not to be young  ~E.E. Cummings (American poet, author, playwright), “Jottings,” in Wake, 1951

Lately, I’m seeing more and more mostly middle-aged people taking care of their aging parents.

In church. At restaurants. In grocery stores, medical facilities, parking lots.

I used to be one of those caregivers before Mom passed, but when you’re waist-deep in the weeds, it’s hard to notice how many others are in there with you.

Now it all comes rushing back.

Carers almost uniformly look haggard. Worn out. Exhausted. Frazzled. Hopeless. Sometimes even angry.

Did I look like that? I suppose so.

On the other hand, their “patients” appear blissfully oblivious.

Maybe they’re focusing — hard — on staying alive. Or they haven’t a clue how tough it is, doing for a parent when you’re the “child.”

I think my mom realized — probably because I told her a thousand times! — how hard it was, and I know she hated being a burden to her loved ones.

But caring for an aging parent is one thing. Others are taking care of a special needs child or young adult; spouses are taking care of their ailing significant other.

Many of these carers are trying to juggle their own employment, household duties, physical needs (like sleep and exercise), while they’re taking care of someone they love.

There aren’t enough hours in a day for all that must be done, but they’re giving it their best shot.

I never expected or wanted to be a caregiver. It wasn’t modeled for me, wasn’t something I trained for.

That’s pretty typical. I won’t bore you with the statistics (which might be interesting if you’re in the “misery loves company” camp); suffice it to say, there’s a lot of unpaid care going on in this country, with folks sacrificing their own needs/wants to tend to a parent, child, or spouse.

Looking back, I recognize I needed help but wasn’t getting it, partly because I didn’t realize what a strain I was under, and also because I didn’t have the time or energy to try to find help.

But the main hindrance, if full truth be told, was that Mom didn’t want anybody except me caring for her.

I didn’t know what I was doing, yet Mom said it was good enough for her. And she systematically ran off all the help I tried to hire.

I could go on and on, but before this gets too long, I wanted to offer a few suggestions to those who are presently caring, as well as to those who will be caring sometime in the future:

1) Rest assured, you’re doing a good thing. Yes, it’s hard, but that patient of yours values you and your help. And how nice not to be weighed down by the guilt of abandoning a loved one in their hour of need.

2) Remember to take time for yourself. Caring is hard. But you can’t care properly for someone else if you don’t first take care of YOU. Schedule respite care so you can regroup and escape the trenches once in a while.

3) Don’t be timid about asking for help. Whether it comes from family and friends or from organizations, help is available. No one person can be the be-all and end-all for another; even a little help can buoy you up enough to continue carrying on.

4) Accept that this is a temporary situation. Either your loved one will mend and return to self-sufficiency, or death will come calling. Whichever happens, you’ll never kick yourself for doing the caring thing, the loving thing!

Do you have any other tips/advice for caregivers?

I did nothing but comfort my plants, till now their small green cheeks are covered with smiles. ~Emily Dickinson, American poet

I confess you were an afterthought,
A spur-of-the-moment something I bought.
I found you nestled in a dahlia patch,
Your color stood out from the rest of the batch.

I asked the clerk which one she’d choose.
With no hesitation, she pointed to you.
“I think you’ll be pleased” is what she said,
So I put you in my cart without any dread.

I planted you where you’d get sun and shade;
Watered you, guarded you, and often prayed
That you’d be happy living here with me
And wouldn’t long for what wouldn’t be.

Just look at you now, healthy and lush!
Your colors are radiant, making me blush.
For my part in helping you thrive and grow,
I couldn’t be happier; my heart is aglow.

Note: Poetry form is rhyming couplets.

Music is forever; music should grow and mature with you, following you right on up until you die. ~ Paul Simon, American singer-songwriter, guitarist (originally teamed up with Art Garfunkel)

Once again, I’m between bands.

Summer band has concluded its season, and symphonic band (the one that follows the university class schedule) has yet to begin.

While part of me misses the camaraderie of these two musical groups, another part relishes a much-needed break.

I actually look forward to time when I can practice what I want, when I want.

And lest you think I don’t practice, let me assure you I do.

Scales, arpeggios, long tones, double- and triple-tonguing. Old pieces my teacher had me play years ago that are still challenging. Previous selections from both bands (Sousa marches, I’m looking at you!)

The time of “between bands” also gives me a chance to get my flute into the repair shop for an overhaul. Called a “Clean, Oil, Adjust” (COA). this is a recommended annual servicing designed to address problems like leaks before they become major.

It’s also the best way to keep a flute in proper condition so it plays, sounds, and looks its best.

Back more years ago than I care to admit, I started in band by playing clarinet. I played from junior high school all the way through high school and four years at the university level.

Never once did I send my clarinet in for servicing!

I didn’t know I should. No one told me. Nor did anybody I know send in their instrument for repairs — unless, of course, something major was going on.

We all just lined up around our director’s desk and let him tweak things like bent keys, loose screws, sticky valves, and wonky pads.

How things have changed! While I’m sure band directors at the elementary and secondary level still have to perform basic maintenance on their students’ instruments, the farther a musician advances, the more often an instrument needs servicing.

Especially if they’re playing outdoors the way we do in the summertime, with heat and humidity raging.

Annual maintenance is one of those things musicians budget for. And with the cost of new musical instruments only on the increase, it just makes sense to care for your instrument so it can grow old with you!

What a significance wild flowers have, more than the tamed productions of the garden! They seem Heaven’s own messengers sent straight to man to bear glad tidings of universal and undying love. ~Henry James Slack, English journalist, activist, and science writer

A

Fence line

Adorned by

Dancing flowers —

Pink, yellow, and blue —

Can’t help but make me smile

As I take my daily walk.

So much color! So much beauty!

I wonder if the homeowner knew

His patch of posies would bring so much joy?

Note: Poetry form is Etheree.