The Ark in my Heart

Building-wise, not much has happened over winter break. James, Jen, and Evie June traveled to their homeland (West Virginia and Kentucky) for the holidays, and John O. spent a couple of lonely days on site by himself. I stopped by on an Evil-Knieval Memorial Visit with Rebecca and her three boys (ages 4, 3, and 2) and we spent 45 minutes trying to keep them from falling off the second floor onto Arlene’s house. Evan planted himself in a crawl space hatch, but other than provoking Cooper and Brandon to do the same and ending in one minor bump on the head, the visit was benign, if muddy.

Home developments that did occur over vacation were those of my own doing, as I trekked around town trying to finalize decisions. At Elements, Danny created a 3-D schematic of my kitchen, complete with a desk/mail-sorting area, dining room buffet, and an island that accommodates a 5-burner down-draft cooktop, a built-in bookcase for my library of Rachael Ray (thanks, Mom!), but alas, no space for a prep sink (sorry, Paula). I chose a simple maple shaker-style cabinet with bar handles, and while I’m sure there are reasons why I should/should not consider this/that/another option, my ulcer and I are not currently accepting commentary.

I expected the visit to the roofing place would be intolerably tedious and boring, but thanks to Tami S. at Mt. Baker Roofing, it was entirely painless. “I want black composite,” I told Tami. “Great,” she said. You can choose between Blah Blah 1 and Blah Blah 2.” “I’ll take Blah Blah 2,” I said. The end.

Also during vacation, I had to revisit the 40-pound lighting catalogues that include, among other options, a collection of fixtures by Mary-Late and Ashley Olsen and an overwhelming number of chandeliers, sconces, and flushmounts with ornate flowery enhancements (pictured is an item from the “Floradora” collection that is 38 inches wide and 64 inches high. I wish I were making that up). Since I’m not decorating a hotel for a geriatric Red Hat Club, I’ve made some simpler selections.

More than anything this break, I felt a bit like Noah. I spent a lot of time building a figurative ark-in-my-heart for an assortment of animals in need of care. I had two house-sitting jobs, one caring for Annie, a delightful feline who led me daily to the cabinet where her food was stored, rolling around as I filled her dish from a recycled yogurt container labeled “gold nuggets.” Just up the street, I looked after a rabbit with 24 names [note to self: do NOT spill bunny urine on one’s clothing ever, ever again], and I took care of my own dog for most of vacation, a responsibility that included an overnight visit to the doggy hospital for a urinary tract infection (a bargain at $1060!). Dr. Ed Sullivan (really! That’s his name!) is as compassionate, intelligent a vet as a dog-mom could hope for. Also, Dr. Ed, enjoy that next trip to Hawaii.

In the continuing saga of my relationship with Amy’s family of animals, I also spent time at Dr. Ed’s with Amy and her Bernese Mountain Dog, Copan, who suffers from a form of cancer sadly common to his breed. Copan accompanied Amy to Seattle when she was battling her own cancer, and it was hoped that a stem-cell transplant might cure Copan’s disease. It’s hard not to believe that Copan’s role in Amy’s life isn’t part of some karmic plan—he comforted her, and now she him. My dad says “animals are sponges for pain,” and while we hope that our pets don’t literally absorb our disease, there’s no denying that they recognize our struggles and are compassionate caretakers.

As my house grows, so does my animal family. Amy’s cat, Andale (on-duh-lay) has come to live with me (pictured watching LOST with me—I think it’s the episode where Sawyer loses the ping pong match). Andale’s placement alleviates Amy’s allergies, his and John’s ongoing battle for territorial dominance, and my need for feline companionship nap buddy. Happily, John and Amy are settling back in Bellingham, just in time to celebrate the 30-year anniversary of mine and Amy’s friendship and the holidays (including a Frida Kahlo Christmas Eve at the Boyle’s new home—that’s me in the middle channeling Fride through my unibrow). Fostering Andale is an honor and a joy—my sense of displacement and homelessness is assuaged knowing that I can provide a haven for another.