FOWL IDEA

Once upon a time, there was this pig-tailed girl who loved animals. Being the only child to a divorced parent who worked two jobs, she filled herself with whimsical ideas and surrounded herself with animals that were her best friends. 

This little girl more or less rescued and raised a plethora of animals growing up. In fact, her backyard would be a great archeological site with bones from lizards, guinea pigs, dog, salamanders, chicken, goat (yes goat), rabbits, turtles, doves, other fowl creatures of the like, etc. You get the idea.

So, little girl, me, is not so little anymore and has had quiet the life. Her constant companion is ‘Bidney’, the textbook perfect kidney. Bidney is just wonderful, and if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be writing right now. But seriously, if I were entertaining myself with Bidney conversations, I should probably be in a straight jacket, and that I don’t have time for.

So, my life now is far from whimsical and to say exciting would just be making my nose grow.  But every once in a while, when I come up for air, I get a good idea. Well, about a month ago, I’d say I had a fowl idea.

Literally… x 2.  While Paul was on business in Guam, over Easter,  my fowl idea was to have chickens again. Just a couple. With legitimate reasons. They will provide au natural eggs, get rid of unwanted bugs, and help fertilize the vegetable garden. I ran it by Paul via text and he replied, “That’d be interesting”, which unless it’s a flat “NO” means it’s a go. 

Well the two chicks (officially Chicky2 & Tabasco), which I generalize and call ‘chicks’ are quickly growing and becoming self sufficient young teen chicks.  One of them, however, is displaying bullying behavior and I’m hoping she doesn’t turn into a Chaz Bono situation.  Because cockle doodle doo-ers aren’t allowed where I live. Okay, chickens technically aren’t allowed where I live, but that’s not the issue. Plus, it only “isn’t allowed”  if someone complains about their noise. Chickens by the way, are much quieter than say some tropical Cockatoo or Macaw type bird. I rest my case.  And they are eco-friendly. (HAHAHA!)

So as not to be dubbed the OC Hillbillies with free roaming chickens, I decide to build my own coop. Custom. By Diana. This was after  trying to buy a coop online, only to discover buying a coop is preposterously expensive. From hundreds of dollars to more than a thousand.  Preposterous!

So off to Lowe’s I go to buy material. I’ve never built a coop, and trust you me, I will not be building another coop for a very, very long time.  First of all, when you build with soft pine, the cheapest wood I  could find,  use wood screws. Nobody told me about that. Because when I went to move the frame that I so proudly built with regular nails, well, it all fell apart at the joints like matchsticks. Damn nails just popped right off.  I’m sure the look on my face was priceless. But, after much ado about cooping, my 5’ x 5’ hen house came to shape. I even made my own free standing chicken feeder.  And that folks is what happened to my lovely, fowl idea.

The World According to Pong

I am my own master. I am also your master, you just don’t know it.

My name is Pong. Not to be confused with Bong. Pong means chubby in Chinese, which I am obviously not.

Sleepovers in bed with you? Consider me interested.  Call human for appointment.

I am like a heat seeking missile but better….I AM a FOOD SEEKING MISSILE!

Stress: When I see food, but can’t get it. (Ex: Cheeto wedged in my face).

Play opossum when it’s time for bed and humans just might leave you on the ottoman for the night. Has yet to work, but keep trying.

The world is my food bowl. I warn you!

I can actually hear myself getting fatter as I inhale my food. Chewing is unnecessary and a waste of time.

A juicy rib eye steak at my eye level means it is mine. Silly human.

Avoiding eye contact doesn’t work anymore. Especially to she-human.

I wish I was little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl who looked good, I would call her.

Putting cayenne pepper/hot sauce to keep me from eating prohibited things don’t work. Didn’t know it’s a bonus topping for me, did you?

Human wants to use my head as a door jam when I get in trouble. See if I care.

If you love me, cuddle me, pet me and speak sweet nothings to my flat face, I will be your son-of-a-biatch.

Rats. Die.

I have issues. What do you expect from a peculiar dog with a peculiar look and perplexing character?  

I’ve done the math. Nothing about my Pug face is proportionate. I look like I’ve been smashed, punched and sat on… But if you pull my ears out, I tend to look like Yoda and with my mental powers, I make you think I’m the freaking cutest thing roaming on four paws. Therefore, I am.

Sneaking into human bed and laying in the pillows is like being spooned from every direction.

It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Dog who run behind car gets exhausted. Dog who run in front gets tired. Dog who ride inside is just right. 

Don’t wake me up unless it is interesting. Anything but food, walks or something I can chase need not apply.

I work hard.  Sleeping.

My sister is perfect. She glows white. My genetic factor makes me mischievous and naughty, hence the black.

I turn invisible when I turn my back to humans or hide behind something bigger.

I love my body. I love being  naked. Clothes are for humans.

A special day to celebrate my mother

All that I am, I am thanks to my mother. The weather couldn’t make it’s mind up on whether it wanted to share its sun or not, but that didn’t stop us. We bundled mom up, took her down to the beach, carried her across the sand and plopped her down on a chair. It was cold, she was having difficulties, but we were able to catch a couple smiles here and there. Something about the ocean air gives her energy and brings a little sunshine to her ALS riddled body. Mom, you are a fighter, a heroine, a lioness. I’m sorry you are suffering and know that you have thrown in the towel. It is ok. I get it. I wish I could ease your pain and lessen your suffering. I love you.

LOVE.

love  [luhv]  noun, verb 

1. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend; maternal love for a child 2. warm attachment, enthusiasm, strong predilection, or liking for anything 3. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart. 

Love.  A mother’s love is instinctual, unconditional, and forever. I always hear about it, but I don’t have children, so I cannot fully comprehend the magnitude of a mom’s love. I have dogs. That doesn’t count. Recently however, okay it’s been more than a month now, I had a special moment with my mom one evening. I curled up in her bed and laid next to her, half my back-end hanging off the edge, but it was ok.  In that short period as I lay next to her on her hospital bed at home, we had a mother-daughter moment where everything around us fell away, time stood still and I felt the power of my mother’s love for me in a way that I’ve never felt before.  I love my mother. She loves me, too, she loves me more than life itself.  We  laughed and cried. Mom recounted the early years when working hard and saving paid off.  Mom brought back the memory of how she would ride me on the back of her bike to church on Sundays and around town.  It saved gas. But there was a small price to pay. Mom always told me to keep me feet away from the spinning spokes. As she pedaled and I daydreamed on the back, I would forget and on more than one occasion I would end up in crocodile tears as I found my feet had been churned up and streaked with bike grease. Then came the worried scorn in her Asian accent, “I told you so many times, why you don’t pay attention?”. Sob.

Love. For those who know me, you know I’ve always loved adventure. Extreme adventure. The last month or so, I felt like the Greek God, Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.  So when Bidney’s twin, Brian decided to visit my mom and the Bidney, I decided to surprise  Brian and the kidneys with a little, almost out of this world experience…falling out of the sky at 13,000 feet! 

WHEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!  We are a bunch of suited up morons stuffed into a make shift mini cargo plane, like a pack of sardines. One by one, we tuck and roll to a freeee falll. Peaceful, serene and then exhilarating as the wind hits you so fast it’s hard to breathe, but the view…the view is breathtaking. This is what it’s like to soar like a bird. Soaring for about a minute until the rip cord yanks you back to reality and you remember you are human tied like a toy to a big piece of nylon fabric.  A few minutes later and we are back on solid ground. I took a breath and was all smiles. And that’s all I needed to refresh me and keep me going. It’s amazing what the human spirit is capable of doing. We, our souls, our spirit to fight and live and make it through hard times is what keeps the world going. And it doesn’t hurt that there are little angels floating around us all the time in the form of good friends, and neighbors.

Love.

Chivalry is not dead. I love Paul Lawson III. Some call him Bub. Honorable. Handsome. Honest. Noble. Fun loving. Funny. Respectful. Athletic. Quirky. Good communicator. Best friend. Loves me.  I love him more than I did when I met him.  With the past year (plus) full of trials, I am blessed to have Bub by my side.  He stood by me when I was on dialysis. He pushed me up a hill (Angel’s Landing, Zion Park, Utah) when I was too exhausted to take another step but wasn’t mentally ready to turn back.  He walked slowly along my side when I could barely hike a little grassy knoll and flattered me by not holding me back from being adventurous even though I had to hook myself nightly to my life machine.  He shared the bedroom with Lola, my dialysis machine, and now he share the restroom with Bidney.

My mom has been suffering miserably from ALS (Lou Gehrig’s ) for the past couple years. Bub has been so understanding and I believe it’s because he had such a special relationship with his beloved mother. Mrs. Dolores Lawson passed away March 24.

Until the end she handled herself with dignity, honor and a concern for the well being and happiness of all those around her. She will be missed. I thank her for her smiles and golden personality, which she’s passed on to her son. And I thank her for having Bub. She is loved and that twinkle in her eye that sparkled when she smiled will always be remembered.

 Love.  Spring brings new birds, bees, flowers and trees. My mom is known for her green thumb. She grows organic fruits and veggies that are bigger than ones you buy from the store on steroids! We’ ve had these flowers outside in the front of our house for years. They bloom once a year. This year they came in so full, thick and high…it was a sight to behold. They are the biggest, brightest flowers on the block.  They are a celebration of my mother.

      

Love.  It comes in different shapes and sizes. Mostly, it can not be measured.  I’ve learned that when I see and feel the most pain, I also see and feel the most love. Trials can bring people closer and love is always just around the corner. Sometimes you’ve just got to stick your neck far enough out there to see what’s on the other side. And when you do, I hope you’ll feel that golden light of endless love.

Grounded. Literally.

I would like to say the earth cracked under my feet and swallowed me up.  Or even better that I was abducted to a remote island with nothing but a good book and certain amenities to meet my blissful needs. (Tom and Todd, I haven’t forgotten about you over on St. Lucia).

But I assure you…to my dismay…that I am here. In Irvine. Usually in a tailspin, trying to make sure my mom is taken care of since it’s ridiculously hard to find a true and through, qualified caregiver. My mom’s ALS (Lou Gehrig’s) has been slowly robbing her from her body. Mentally she is still sharp as a nail, and she feels everything. Itches she can’t scratch. Pains she can’t tend to. She no longer walks. Barely talks, and needs 24 hour supervision and help. But she is hanging in there most days.  That woman has always had a will as strong as steel.  She is China tough. And her faith in her church has been her foundation of goodness and charity. Mom’s good friend, Jill, calls her a “Quiet Giant”.

With all of mom’s stuff going on, I have had to clip my travel wings for the time being. No globe trotter here. There once was a time when the question of the day from my friends were, “Where are you going now?” or “Now where’d you get back from?”  I went from traveling daughter to caregiver.

That was hard, but not compared to hearing the doctor’s tell me last Friday that my mom has only a few months to live. I wanted to cry all Friday afternoon, but felt like the plug to the overfilled bathtub was jammed. Until it got pulled. I’ve been crying on and off for three days now… Geez, cry me a river already! I think mom and I have cried more in the last couple months than all our lives. We have never been much of a crying family, mom and I. But it’s all kinds of tears now. Happy tears. Sad tears. Angry or frustrated tears. Slap-happy-tired tears. You name it, tears are so in style right now in an unwanted way.  I’ve discovered the sweeter our relationship has gotten over the last few months, the more vulnerable and emotional I have become. I am exhausted.

My will is stronger than my heart, but neither are willing to give up my mom yet. Now that we’ve finally gotten to the relationship I’ve always wanted with her. I used to wish and pray that when God thought it was time, He could just take her without pain and suffering. Well, she’s in pain and suffers and I’m selfishly not ready to let go. Yet. I’m not done loving her or talking softly to her. And I’m not done scaring her with my extreme adventures in skydiving, back country snowboarding, snowmobiling, etc now that I have ‘B’idney to help out!

So on a more positive note…Bidney, has successfully passed his 1 year transplant mark last Dec 9th. We are doing well and though I still get monthly blood work and discuss my results via phone with my awesome doctor up at St. Joe’s, I won’t need to go down to UCSD  for a transplant follow up with my team until August. And remember how they’ve been trying to biopsy my kidney for the last several months? It is no longer necessary for the time being. Woohoo! Remember that will of mine? It proved stronger than their wanting to take a piece of my Bidney. Ha!

Carry on, carry on, carry on!!!