It was serendipity that I would have my friend, Cindy join me to check out John Michael Kohler Arts Center Midsummer Festival of Arts yesterday.
And on my birthday no less.
A glass of wine in hand, we strolled the streets checking out all the talented artists and their work.
There is just something about viewing art, being with a friend, sipping wine, and warm sunshine that can fill my soul with pure joy.
And money from my mom and in-laws for my birthday that was burning a hole in my pocket that I just had to spend.
But I had made a promise to myself.
No buying any wiener dog treasures.
How many does a girl need I told myself.
I promised.
And then it happened.
As if this beam of light shined down from the heavens and spotlighted this adorable metal sculpted dachshund.
“A wiener dog!” I exclaimed.
I shot off like a rocket headed right for the whimsical looking dog.
The angel on my right shoulder whispered in my ear, “But you promised. No wiener dog things!”
Oh but look at her! She is so happy! She reminds me of Gidget.
And then I knew I was in trouble when the artist from Garden Deva Sculptures out of Oklahoma said, “I almost didn’t bring this one today. It’s the only one left.”
That was it. I had to have her. Promise broken.
Wallet lighter.
Heart happy.
It was worth it. So worth it.
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Tomorrow is my birthday! It was almost July 19th, but I busted into the world just in the nick of time at 11:55pm, 52 years ago.
I was a whopping baby (due to my mom’s love of Fudgesicles I think!)…. weighing in at 9 lbs., 3 oz. Mmmm, I could go for a Fudgesicle right now!
Almost another year older and the beat goes on…
And as I think about my birth all those years ago, I’m thinking about how much I love this second half of my life, or as I recall years ago Dr. Wayne Dyer calling it, the afternoon of our life.
Not that I didn’t enjoy the first half (the morning of), but knowing what I know now, I appreciate life so much more.
And I think about how when we are born, we are so open and free — nothing of ideals and projections have been put upon us at that time — we are so close to where we came from (God/Spirit) those first few years.
And then at some point after all the layers pile on from getting wrapped up in so many different points of view and how some ideals can begin to weigh us down, we begin walking back toward that inner place of pureness again — peeling away the layers, one by one, and finding acceptance and more peace in who we authentically are.
At least this has been the case for me. I welcome it and am enjoying this more confident sense of self that continues to morph and evolve.
I love birthday’s and hope that I will always embrace them as I do, no matter how old I get.
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I had just shuffled my way to the bathroom at 6:45 am yesterday morning. And yes, I kind of shuffle, as my feet are usually a little stiff after having slept for the night.
I had just finished expressing Gidget’s bladder (common when you have a dog with IVDD) and was glad it was now my turn.
Half way through my sprinkle and Gidget off to wait by her food bowl, I heard John say, “Barb, come here right away! You have to see this!”
So much for a full sprinkle. I jumped up from the throne, my eyes still half-mast and my hair sticking up in a few places and into the kitchen I went.
“What is it?”
He grabbed me by the hand and led me out the front door. “It’s the strangest thing,” he said.
Luckily I had thrown on a pair of shorts with my t-shirt I normally sleep in — or that would have been the strangest thing for the neighbors to see.
A storm had just passed through and the grass was soaked as I walked on my tip-toes and John guided me over to the birch tree, still holding my hand.
I could see something in the grass, but couldn’t make out what it was.
“What is it?” I said, worried it was something icky.
Just as we got closer I saw them.
Four soaking wet little birds. They weren’t really baby birds anymore, but a bit bigger.
“Are they alive?” I said.
John said, “I’m not sure.”
Their eyes were wide open, but they weren’t blinking and not moving a feather, leaning up against one another, sticking straight up in the grass.
Looking up into the tree I said, “They must have been blown out of their nest.” Though I wasn’t able to see a nest.
Still not sure they were alive, I bent over closer to look at them and pointed my index finger toward them.
“Don’t touch them!” John said.
“I know. I know. I won’t.”
But as my finger got closer, all of a sudden all four beaks opened. They thought perhaps I was their mama coming to feed them.
I was relieved they were alive.
“They must be in shock from being blown out of their nest,” I said.
John agreed.
I was worried about the little ones, but knew from a phone call to my dad’s wife who serves on wildlife committees, that the DNR wouldn’t do come help them out.
So I had to wait and watch and hope they’d be okay.
Just then, a drenched stray orange striped tabby cat appeared across the street.
Good Lord, I thought. He will find them and eat them for breakfast. Luckily he headed south, likely looking for somewhere to dry off or I would have been the wild-haired, sleepy-eyed neighbor lady running the cat off down the street.
Little by little, each bird began to shake off the raindrops on their wings and began hopping about in the grass. I was relieved but still worried. They also began to spread their wings and attempt short flying trips.
I checked on them periodically and the last time I looked a few moments later, they were gone.
Hopefully they made it out into the world okay.
As for me, I finished my morning sprinkle and after all the excitement my eyes were now wide open too.
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