Dewey Boy

Dewey.

God, how I have grown to love this dog.

He’s slow for a Scottish Terrier, sorta dim, clumsy, and has the biggest heart of any animal I’ve known.
He’s come a long way from the 9 year old miserable scrap of matted fur and pain that we brought home in January. It’s just amazing what good food, a warm bed, and a lot of love can do.

We had a few sunny days in Oregon last week and I saw him out on the grass. He was in the sun, just enjoying the rays. Motionless, with his eyes closed. Sitting straight up, soaking it all in.

I wondered what he was thinking about, just sitting there so quietly.

All of a sudden, he started running and cavorting all over the yard. He raced, he twisted, he turned, he jumped. He was gamboling like a little lamb in a pasture. Then, his happiness expressed--he went back his sun spot and closed his eyes again.

This time he was smiling.

Gaylordin'

Cheap. Frugal. Thrifty. Penny-Picher. Tight. Economical.

Whatever you want to call it...here at home, we call it 'Gaylordin'.

You see, my family name is Gaylord. As a group, you will never meet more cost conscious people. It's somewhere in the genes--almost like having brown eyes or baby-fine hair. It's like breathing to us and it cannot be helped.

So what is 'Gaylordin'?'

For instance, Wes will pay whatever it costs, just to get the shopping part over with. He barely glances at price tags. If he needs something, he needs it. It never, ever occurs to him to find a better deal elsewhere or to ask for a discount.

Not me.

When we buy a new car, Wes simply drops me off and waits for my phone call to let him know the deed is done. I rarely pay retail for anything--and if I can make the car dealer either sweat, cry or get fired for giving me the deal of the century--I'm a happy camper. In 1999, we built a beautiful home in Nevada on 55 acres for a fraction of what it would have typically cost.

Even our bankers and sub-contractors were stunned on how much quality I gleaned from just a few dollars. In fact, they said it couldn't be done when they saw my budget. Not only did I build a bigger house than we had expected--I came in UNDER budget.

How? I'm a Gaylord.

I need to clarify that my family doesnt actually need to be so cheap--we just like the thrill of a good bargain. We feel disappointed and sad if we ever get 'taken' on a deal, although it's far and few between. It's so rare, I remember just about every incident I've ever had.

We always knew Brodie had the gift of Gaylordin.. As a toddler, he was always trying to figure out angles to work the Grandparents. He painted a series of rocks and (banking on his cuteness factor), he sold them to my mother for a few bucks. Mom isn't genetically a Gaylord, so she was the perfect one to pitch the sale to. Yes, he knew that as a 3 year old. Scary kid, really.

Tia, on the other hand just discovered her Gaylordin' skills while we were on the cruise in December. Up until that point, we despaired that she hadn't developed the mindset or the knack to pinch every last ounce of juice from a penny. As she was shopping around at the straw market on Nassau, she found a beautiful scarf she wanted. The price was $28. By the time she was done dealing, she had that scarf for $5. She also had sweat on her brow and a triumphant swagger to her step. I've never seen her eyes sparkle like that. She was thrilled.

Why? She found her gene-----She was finally GAYLORDIN!

So, if you call me and I tell you I can't come out to play because I'm grinding my own .59 cent per pound hamburger out of on-sale chuck roast, or I'm spray painting an old wicker chair so I don't have to buy a new one--don't be mad.

It's really not my fault.

Gaylordin' is in my blood.

Somewhere between 6 and 86

I worked yesterday.

My 9:00am patient was a darling little 6 year old girl. She spoke with the slightest of lisps and wore a purple sweatshirt. and had on an elastic bracelet of Cheerios. There was black marker all over her hands and her red nail polish was chipping, showing the pink layer underneath.

During our hour together, she stared straight into my eyes with the most vivid, round blue eyes.They were clear, bright, and innocent. She asked a lot of questions, and seemed satisfied that YES indeed I did personally know the Tooth Fairy and that I had a direct line to her. This was important stuff because she had several loose teeth and was looking forward to a night time visit and some serious cash under her pillow. She literally wriggled with delight. Her mother, who accompanied her winked at me conspiratorially a few times as we chatted, and I knew this little one was well cared for.

I gave her kid’s toothbrush and tiny tooth fairy box to hold her cast off tooth and sent them on their way. I got a hug for my efforts and a loud cheery "SEE YA LATER DOCTOR HYGEEEENNNIST". I knew she’d be back in 6 months and would give me the full Tooth Fairy report and show me the gap in her enormous smile.


My 10:00am patient was an 86 year old woman. She had an accent that was decidedly Irish, and she wore a cream colored sweater over brown knit pants that had seen better days. Her nails were short, cracked and yellowing. Her knuckles were gnarled, knobbly and misshapen due to the arthritis she suffered. Her skin was like fine, wrinkled porcelain. She was pink hued and pretty from the cold morning air .

While in my chair, she wearily leaned back and closed her cloudy grey eyes while I worked on the few teeth she had left. She smelled smoky, like she lived with a wood stove. I could just picture her near the fire, with her feet up and an old dog curled near her chair while she watched Wheel of Fortune and waited for her kids to call.

She didn’t say much, just let me do my job. She accepted the toothbrush and floss aids I handed to her without a word. She nodded at me politely and left. She went home. I knew she was going home because someone came to pick her up. I was worried about her, living all alone. I wondered if she would make her next appointment in 6 months. I guess I’ll find out in September.

Both of my patients were at opposite ends of their lives. The 6 year old was full of vitality, innocence and hope. The 86 year old was tired, accepting and peaceful. What could they teach each other? What could they teach me?

And where am I in my life right this very minute that I could observe these two and realize I was looking at both my past and my future?

For instance, here’s how it would look if I put all three of us onto a (life) timeline:

6 --------------------ME--------------------- 86

As you can see, I am somewhere in the middle. I have enough experience to be well seasoned, but still young enough to be amazed by every day experiences and encounters.
I am both a learner and a teacher at this stage of my life. I have clarity, yet I can see different sides to everything. I have drive that is tempered by experience. I have mellowed, yet I still chase the dream.

All of a sudden living in my 40’s is feeling pretty darn good.

I cannot think of a better place to be.

Just doing a little dreamin'

I have a few days off from work starting tomorrow. I know what I have to do (bathe dogs, pay bills, housework), but it's hard getting the motivation to do it.

Let's allow the dream sequence to begin....shall we?

Someday:
** I'll open the cleaned-by-someone-else fridge and there will be little tea sandwiches, chilled shrimp (peeled of course!) and frothy drinks just waiting for me

** I'll go to bed in crisp NEW sheets (800+ threadcount) every night

** Maggie and Dewey the Scottie dogs will smell like vanilla and will never track in mud or bark unnecessarily.

** I'll have a spa day booked every Friday, which includes a massage, pedicure and a manicure

** I'll be snotty to Paris Hilton because I can.

** The TV will only play shows and movie that I like. The remote control will only fit my hand and my boys will say things like " really, we LOVE the Lifetime network--let's all watch it together..and then we can all talk about our feelings afterwards"

** My car will never need to be filled up with gas again, nor will it look like a traveling purse.

** I will walk around in comfortable, yet stylish clothes that are ironed (by someone else) every day.

** The phone will ring and it will only be friends asking me to the latest party, never a sales pitch from a stranger.

** I will travel to exotic ports where I will speak the language and the native people will be delighted when I dance with them near the fire. While I am dancing, all will marvel at my sultry, sexy moves in my torn-off-the-shoulder garment. (You do realize I'm a size 0 in this dream, right?)

** The Food Network will approach me with a show concept. I will tell them to talk to my publicist, who will wrangle a deal so huge it will be front page news. Rachel Ray will be jealous and beg to come on my show--but I'll say "No Rachel" without an explanation, just to be bitchy.

I suppose it's all right to dream. I have to go now, my Knight in shining armour just yelled from the garage that he needs me to run to the hardware store and get some wrench thingy for him.

Call me if you're having a party or need someone sultry to dance around the fire.

I'm pretty sure I'm still available.

American Cottage Industries

Wes and I like to drive.
We go to different areas of the state, we try Mom and Pop restaurants, we talk to locals at fishing spots, we hang out at the city park, we grab a newspaper, we drive by the school. Basically, we try to get the true flavor of the town.

One of our favorite things is to see what people are doing to drum up money in small out-of-the-way areas. There is quite the cottage industry out there with home bookkeeping services, day care, or what-have-you. The (typically) hand made yard sign says a lot about the activities and strengths within that home.

During the (horrid) Beanie Baby craze, that's nearly all the signage we'd see. "BEANIE BABIES FOR SALE"! We'd guess those folk's houses probably smelled like cigarette smoke and cabbage. There would be plastic flowers somewhere either in the yard or in the house, and they'd have a dusty crochet doll covering their extra roll of toilet paper in the bathroom. If we ever dared to stop--99% of the time, we'd be right.

We really enjoy seeing the combinations of home businesses we've found.
We can just picture the financially struggling couple trying to decide what talents they had in order to make a little money to pay the rent.
Some of the funniest combination of signs we've seen on the same handmade marquee are:
"Child Care" and "Knife Sharpening"
OR
"Dog Boarding" and "Taxidermy"

HOLY HELL--What were they THINKING???

So when you are on your way to somewhere exciting, read these signs and imagine those industrious people sitting at their kitchen table trying to figure out a way to make a living. Their tiny business may not make it. Or it may hit big and eventually be moved to a storefront building. Maybe even go national.

I'm glad to be an American where we at least have the freedom to try.