Thursday, February 15, 2007

Journal of a Living Lady #292

Nancy White Kelly

Some of my brightest thinking occurs at night. The number of businesses I have organized from scratch would rival Donald Trump. In two lifetimes, Mother Teresa could not have made as many mission trips as I have vicariously taken to exotic places.

Ideas for non-profit organizations that would solve many problems of the world freely dance on the synapses of my brain. Often, at some unseemly hour, I rise from my bed fumbling for pen and paper. I cannot allow myself to lose brilliant thoughts that evaporate at daybreak. Eventually, in the clarity of the day, I collect my random notes and type the words which were scribbled in near darkness. They are conveniently filed on the hard drive of my computer under the title, “Nancy’s Nocturnal Notes.”

The funny thing is that every thought originating in that narrow time frame between midnight and dawn seems so clever and original. Cerebral adrenaline flows without restraint. No challenge seems beyond me. My mind roams freely without regard to my age, health, or finances.

However, after sleep overtakes my cerebral hemispheres, nothing seems quite as exciting in the morning as it was just hours before.

I would still like to open a brick and mortar numismatics shop with on-line capability. Only time will tell if that becomes a reality along with an eBay Selling Station. But it is doubtful that I will ever travel to Monsubaswie or start a food-bank with connections to major food and trucking companies.

Buddy is a fine fellow, but no longer is a cheer-leader or ditch-digger for my impulsive passions. He has had nearly forty-two years of supporting me through multitudinous short-term interests, including worm-farming and Charley McCarthy-style ventriloquism gigs.

His response to my grandiose ideas is now nothing more than a smirky grin. While his short-term memory is failing, his long-term memory is still great. He remembers the thousands of red-wiggler worms that crawled off on a rainy night and the paper-mache dummy he painstakingly crafted that crumbled in the middle of a performance. That seems like a life time ago. The years have flown by and neither he nor I are what we used to be.

Yet, I refuse to be a matronly mannequin consigned to a boring life. My nightly escapades continue to entertain me. No harm done. Who knows when one inspirational spark might light an enduring fire for Mrs. Methuselah?

Friday, February 02, 2007

Journal of a Living Lady #291

Nancy White Kelly

The snow is gently falling as I write. What a beautiful transformation has taken place over the night. A powdery white veil coats the landscape. The surrounding mountains are as scenic as any New Hampshire postcard.

A distinctive neigh from our horse, Dixie, attracts my attention. She is undoubtedly cold and is announcing to her new owners that she wants some sweet feed.

It didn’t take long for Dixie to train us. How funny it is to watch Buddy sneak out the front door to get the morning paper. If he goes out the back, Dixie whinnies incessantly until Buddy gives in and tromps out to the barn with the feed bucket. Not that she is starving. She has a constant supply of good hay.

For a horse though, Dixie is clever. After a couple of mornings of delayed feedings, she approached the setback from a new angle. Literally.

Now, when Dixie hears the paper lady circle the drive, she goes to the highest hill in the pasture. From this vantage point, Dixie can see Buddy no matter which door he exits. If he doesn’t come when she neighs, Dixie throws the equine equivalent of a toddler tantrum. She snorts and runs wide-open across the pasture. It works. Buddy’s coffee and my reading of the paper wait until Dixie gets what Dixie wants.

We ought to know better. We’ve raised enough children and dogs to know that we are supposed to be in charge. Giving in just reinforces bad behavior.

Perhaps Buddy and I are getting soft in our old age. Yet, is a charming creature creatively calling for crunch chow so crazy?

Neigh. Not is this neighborhood.