Moments 2017

This year was, overall, calmer than 2016. But, as ever, the moments tell the whole story.

A Moment That Was Everything

Relief. Joy. Love.

Mom's surgery to remove a tumor from her colon was terrifying for all of us. We had great trust in her surgeon, but no surgery is without risk. Dad and I were anxious messes all day, and I'm glad he felt comfortable leaning on me as much as I leaned on him.

The surgery took place in the evening, so we didn't get to see Mom until the next morning. I was going to wait 'til the afternoon, but Dad texted me in the morning that she was already awake, mostly lucid, and smiling, so I raced to the hospital.

When I walked into her recovery room in the ICU, her face lit up. She couldn't talk, as she had a respirator in her throat, but she didn't need to. The smile said it all. I had tears in my eyes--and I do now, as I type this--as I rushed to her bedside and grabbed her hand. I stayed there for a while, talking to her, smiling at her, relishing her return smile. She was tired, she was groggy, but she was there. I took this picture, and in her groggy state, she didn't really notice me doing it. The response it got on Facebook, from her friends and my own, was tremendous--mostly made up of "Love" reactions and many, many comments about how happy everyone was that she'd come through her surgery with no problems. Especially, of course, her husband and daughter.


A Grand Moment

In April, I spent a few days in Arizona, visiting Summer and Ben in their new home, and going on yet another adventure with my long-time partner in adventures. We do know how to have them.

This one took us north from Phoenix to Sedona, Flagstaff, the adorable town of Williams, and, of course, to the Grand Canyon. I was fifteen the last time I had seen it; Summer had never been.

It has it's name for a reason--it is grand in every sense of the word. We wandered around on the South Rim for a bit, looking in the various gift shops and whatnot, but mostly just enjoying the view.

Too soon, it was time to take our train journey back to Williams. Fortunately, what waited there was the kitsch of historic Route 66, something I've always wanted to see.  My visit to Arizona flew by way too quickly, but as ever, any time spent with Summer is grand.


A Moment of Discovery 

This picture is not one I took, obviously. And it was not taken in 2017, but rather, sometime in the 1930s.

This summer, I took on the task of scanning Mom and Dad's old photos. I started with a box of pictures from Mom's side, and uploaded them to Facebook with any information that might be written on the back. For many, Mom was able to fill in some of the missing info.

This picture, however, surprised us both. On the back, it says, "Edna Merchant." My grandmother, and Mom's own dear mama. We didn't know of this pic until this summer, and we both absolutely love it. Wasn't she marvelous?

Finding this felt like unearthing a treasure--it's a side to my grandmother I never got to see. I had her for 15 years before she died, and I've always felt lucky to get that much time. She was a generous, loving, funny-as-hell lady who loved her family and talked to a little girl's Snoopy doll to make that little girl giggle. Twenty-four years after she left us, we still miss her all the time.

But oh, how lovely to re-discover her.

A Moment of Faith...In Myself

I started a garden this year.

Me. The woman who has killed so many houseplants over the years. When thoughts of pretty little pots of flowers on my balcony started forming in my head, I tried to chase them out. "Houseplants run screaming when they see you..." I thought to myself.

But the idea stuck.

I started with two tiny houseplants and a pot of daffodils. And one small metal bucket, bought in the bargain bins at Target, with a little just-add-water pod of soil and a packet of forget-me-not seeds. I followed the directions to the letter, and set my little charge out on the balcony.

It was a wet spring, and at one point, I had to perform a rescue operation that included soaking excess water out with paper towels. "I've probably killed the poor thing, before the seeds even had a chance," I told Mom on the phone. "Just drain as much excess water out as you can," she responded. Mom is a true Green Thumb.

Before long, I had sprouts. Then leaves. Stalks. Goodness, it got taller and taller. I added to my garden. Dahlias, petunias, geraniums, jasmine, lavender, lantana. A small tree with a tropical-looking flower on it. Fuchsias, which much preferred the shady part of my balcony. Some succulents.

The daffodils died off as they were supposed to. Some flowers didn't survive the heat of July and August, and one of the original houseplants was a lost cause. But for every failure, I had even more successes. My petunias thrived, my lantana exploded with color. My tree got taller and fuller. And my forget-me-not sprouted a perfect little bloom...and then more.

I came to love the garden centers of all the home improvement stores. I bought fancy string lights and little solar lights. Every garden needs a gnome, so Gnomeo came to stay, and he guards my garden with a cheerful smile and a bulbous nose. Even my hummingbird feeder has proved successful, with birds coming constantly to feed.

Maybe black thumbs can turn green.


A Moment of Joy (and Relief!!)

When Archie got out on November 8, I was, at first, only annoyed. He had slipped out the door before, but he'd never gone down the stairs. "Come back here, you little shit," I muttered, but something had spooked him, and he was off and running.

We got a few buildings down and I knew I had to go back and lock my front door. "I'll be right back," I whispered to the bushes where he was crouching, and I ran home to grab my keys and phone.

When I came back, he was nowhere to be found.

I trampled through bushes and mud puddles. I crept behind the buildings of my condo complex (sorry neighbors). I put up signs. I walked around calling, "Archie-doodle! Here baby!! I'm here! Where are you?!"

After two-and-a-half weeks, I was starting to wonder if maybe he hadn't been taken in by someone else, or hurt by another animal, or a car. The possibility of him being hurt was too much, so I avoided that thought as much as I could.

And then it happened--a knock on my door, an out-of-breath neighbor panting, "I just saw a cat...he's crying..." I ran to where she had seen him in pajamas, ratty old shoes, and without my glasses. I squinted into the dark and saw a cat that looked like Archie coming out. Scared, dirty, and hungry, he approached me cautiously, and realized who I was. Tears of joy sprang to my eyes as I recognized his (now filthy) Jedi Master collar, and his sweet little face, slightly gaunt from two-and-a-half weeks out on his own. I carried my wiggly, protesting boy home, crying, "Bless you!!" to my neighbor, Joy, who had followed me to see if it was, indeed, my boy.

This picture is minutes after all of that action--a joyful woman, a dirty cat who was not feeling this whole "be still, take a picture" moment. He had to sniff the whole house, and his brother, who was following him, non-stop, with his nose on him. He had food to eat and his mama's legs to rub against.

He was home.

A Moment of Fun

One month after this picture was taken, the legendary Tom Petty suffered a cardiac arrest at home and died several hours later in the hospital. I received a shocked text from Sarah at work, and rushed to my computer during my prep to see it was sadly true.

But before that, we got this great evening at Sacramento's Golden 1 Arena, singing along with all of the classics--three rebels without a clue, American Girls, having a great time listening to a great musician give us everything he had on stage.

My first "major" concert was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in about 2001 or 2002, with Sarah. It was fitting to see him again with her and Deborah, at one of his final gigs. The last couple years have been really rough on musicians that shaped my generation (Petty, Bowie, Prince, George Michael...).


A Keane Moment

Keane has been on hiatus since 2013, only banding together once in that time to make a quick recording of the glorious "Tear Up This Town" for a movie that a friend of theirs was directing. They have been roundly missed by fans far and wide.

It started to emerge that Tom, the golden-voiced lead singer, had been battling addiction and receiving treatment for it. He was also spending time rebuilding his relationships with family--especially his wife--and being father to his toddler daughter. But somewhere in all that, he wrote a lot of music, and recorded a solo album. In February, he brought his music--and a few special Keane favorites--to San Francisco. It was the last stop on his American tour for the album, and I was delighted to see him.

I had met him once before, at a meet-and-greet where we were shuffled through very, very quickly. I managed to squeak out, "I love your voice!" before being moved on, and he responded with a sincere, "Thank you!!"

This time, I got to actually chat with him for more than a moment, with my Keane friend Marion. We remarked at how relaxed and happy he seemed to us, how his voice wasn't showing any strain. I told him I'm a singer and I know about voices. "You are sounding really, really good." He gave me a delighted smile and said, "Thank you! That's really good to hear." I got this picture, of a happily worn-out British singer and a giddy Meg, on a darkened street in San Francisco's Tenderloin neighborhood. It was worth the Rush Hour drive to San Francisco on a Friday evening, and the cost of a hotel room, to be there.

A California Girl Moment

The 2016-17 school year was a rush of stuff happening. I bought a home, had all new floors put in, started the school year, finally moved in to my new place, and then, in October, finally got to move into my classroom after a little over a year of being a roving teacher. In December, I adopted Da Boyz. There was so much going on, and I was adjusting to being back on anti-depressants for my anxiety...so the school year sort of whizzed by in a flurry of stress. Then Mom started getting sick, and we couldn't figure out what was going on (what we hoped was anemia caused by ulcerous tissue in her stomach instead ended up being colon cancer). By the time June rolled around, I was exhausted.

An adventure was needed. I had been to Arizona for Spring Break, so this adventure needed to be a little less expensive (no airfare) and maybe only one night away. I booked a hotel room in Monterey, and left early on a Wednesday morning to drive there.

I visited the wonderful Monterey Bay Aquarium, and lunched on Cannery Row overlooking the water. I spent a couple of hours on the beach in my swimsuit, listening to the sounds of the ocean and happy children, and read my book. I had dinner at a lovely little Greek restaurant in downtown...and then I drove out to the very edge of the coast and waited for the sunset. It was cold and windy, so I sat in my car until the light was just right, then hopped out to take some pictures, including one of a California Girl in her happy place.

The Obligatory "I Love Da Boyz" Moment

The year has only strengthened my bond with Archie and Popcorn, and my belief that orange tabby boys are the sweetest cats ever. But then, so are torties/torbies. And tuxies. And...

Well, these two orange tabby boys are awesome, no matter what.

Poppers had some urinary issues this year (as in, "Sorry Mom, I peed on the bed...again.") that took some sorting, and then there was Archie's "I just want to see what's out there!!" moment-turned-two-and-a-half-weeks in November, after which he returned slightly skinnier, covered in dirt, and quite chagrined. So while I've gained a grey hair or two from these worries, I've also gained oodles of cuddles and laughter and joy. Da Boyz are delightful, and having them around has improved Casa Meg greatly...even if it does mean a lot more sweeping to keep the cat hair/Meg hair/cat litter in check.

They turned two in May, and even as Popcorn was visiting the vet for his urinary crystals, the vet, checking him out, said, "Well, this is one healthy cat." His heart is strong, he's the perfect weight for his frame (my thirteen-pounder, big-boned boy), and Archie is just the same (though he hasn't had to go to the vet--but will soon, for the regular yearly check-up).


A "Pushing 40" Moment

In August, I turned 39. Sarah took me to lunch and made sure the wait staff sang to me over my cheesecake, as friends do.

I can hardly believe I'll be 40 in 2018--I don't feel "middle aged" and I don't particularly care for that term. I still prefer silly socks over plain; I still enjoy swinging on the swings at my local park after a Sunday morning run.

One thing that keeps me young are my friends--from Sarah to Summer and everyone in between. I am truly one lucky lady to have them.






Here's to many more moments in this coming year!