More has been happening than dogs romping in snow, which was my comic relief during recent hours and days.
Before Friday's' mandolin lesson, I stopped at the vet's. The container with Lola's ashes was waiting for me. A familiar rite of passage--Daisy, Killian, Shadow, now Lola. I had prepared myself for that startling moment of seeing the object, then holding it. It always seems so strangely heavy, yet unconnected to the beloved animal--unlike the snippings of fur I saved. In the car, I realise it's the only time she's ever travelled in the front seat.
At home, I face the problem of where to place the urn. None of my dogs has died in wintertime, all were buried as soon as the ashes came home. This container is too large for the special drawer where I keep our collection of collars. I did find an appropriately respectful but not too obtrusive location.
Last night on the 11 p.m. news, I heard of the death of the Minority Leader, my legislative colleague and neighbour on the Big Lake. Though he was undergoing arduous treatments for a terrible disease, this loss came as a surprise. He was a dedicated, hard-working legislator and leader, and had become a friend. On the floor of the House we might not have often agreed. In the antechamber, the State House corridors, the lobby of the Legislative Office Building, and most especially when meeting along the Bay road as I walked my dogs, we had so much in common.
I remember how he teased me that he never saw me on my dock when he rowed past--at 5 a.m.
When the House meets again, we will have tributes and testimonials. For me it will be an emotional time. Little over a week ago, a legislator of my own party, and a Committee chairman, passed away. He, too, was very ill.
This Winter Break was bracketed with loss. Lola at the beginning, my colleague in government near the end.
This morning at church I stood up for the Birthdays and Anniversaries prayer, for this is the week. In the afternoon we attended a Town Election Meet the Candidates Forum at the library.
From there we headed to our Capitol City for a celebratory birthday-week dinner at--wait for it--Margarita's. What could be more appropriate? It's located in the old City Jail building--perhaps less appropriate, as I both make and obey laws. We were seated in one of the jail cells, with a "door" of black iron bars. For a change, I tried a new to me menu item and can attest that the barbecue chipotle steak fajitas are very tasty.
I didn't actually drink a margarita. Soon as we got back to the Lodge, the Chap made me a caipirinha. I settled onto the sofa to savour it, dogs draped all about me. I now feel more ready to face this action-packed week. I'm relieved that the action doesn't begin until after a quiet, housebound Monday.