Summer Residents (and summer not)

Started working again on the new house. And found ourselves with squatters in the framing. A lovely family of barn swallows was enjoying the relative safety of the unfinished shell. Our initial activity startled them, but once we settled into a pattern of sharing space, the ruffled feathers were soothed. We would sit in the late day and watch mom and dad flying in to feed the ravenous crew who had taken up residence in the bathroom.

On Sunday when I took a friend in to view the new stairs, we were thrilled to find that the babies had fledged. Perched throughout the downstairs, on beams, headers, and the gas fridge were the swallows from the nest. As we watched the through the door, they swooped from fridge to beam to table saw to window sill. Short commuter flights before they spread their wings in preparation for the longer international Southern flight after a summer in Maine.

When I came back later in the day, the house was quiet. Perched outside on the slender branch of the hackmatack were two swallows who eventually flew off in pursuit of an evening meal of mosquitoes and black flies.

We've had a pair that nested for a couple years outside the window on the small cabin, but they did not return this year to rebuild the nest. So, I was happy to have another pair of these sweet summer visitors sharing our home in Happytown.

For all the business of life, this was the third time in as many years that I have been fortunate to witness the exodus from the nest and the first flittering of young birds. Last year, it was a family of blue jays. The year before a colony of chickadees. I'm sure if I were more intentionally observant, I would be witness to more. But the miracles in the moments, happened upon as I was doing other things, is a gift to be savored.

Whatever happened to customer service?

Horrible customer service during my flight back home from Seattle. Here's the scenario.

I arrived at the airport and went to the American ticket/check in, but was informed that as the first leg was on Alaska, I had to go to Alaska Airlines to check in for the flight. There was no one at their ticket counter--just a lot of Position Closed signs, so I used the automated system. Which spit out only the boarding pass for the first flight. So, I went back to American to get my boarding pass for the second flight. (Note that even though these two airlines are close alphabetically, they were on opposite ends of the long, long line of airline counters.) Then I went back to Alaska to try to check my bag. After waiting and waiting for someone, I noted that my boarding pass said "check in with the agent at gate."

I navigate through security and dash to the gate as it is getting late. I go to the counter, explain the situation, and ask for assistance. Wrong! The agent informs me that I needed to check my bag in at the ticket counter.

"But, " I say, " there was no one there. "

"There are 6000 people a day who come through here, I assure you someone was at the counter," replies the guy.

"I don't know about the other 5,999 people," I say, "but there was no one there for this one."

"Then you were in the wrong place."

"The ticket counter is where I was," I reply.

"Then you were at the wrong ticket counter."

Now, I'm getting pissed. "I assure you that I can spell....ALASKA." I replied. I know where I was."

"Well, you were obviously wrong." he says.

"Well, you obviously have no idea of the concept of good customer service," I reply. "Do you want to argue with me or help me out?"

"There's nothing I can do for you," he replies.

"How about a gate hold check?"

"Well, I suppose I can do that."

Sadly, no where in the coversation were the words: "How may I help you?" I simply wanted to check my bag, but his agenda seemed to be proving he was right.

This is a pet peeve with me. I am often stunned at the lack of quality customer service at the grocery store, at the service station, at the department store. People seem more inclined to argue or ignore than anything else. Sad commentary on interpersonal relationships in the new century.

Seattle Rekindles Passion

On a trip to Seattle. Finally moments away from "life" and near a computer to post. I am always amazed at the abundance of diversity in an urban setting as compared to my rural life when I first visit a city. Yet, over the course of a few days, I realize that there is not so much diversity as there is a concentration of differences. And in my place in the world, it feels as though there is more individuality because it is simpler to stand out in a smaller crowd. Sturm und drang is alive and thriving.
I went to Hack Night last night with Bryan--an evening akin to "take my parent to class day," as another mom and a brother were in town and joined the festivities. I spent some time this morning thinking about where our passions lead us. Back in the day when Bryan was a child with a passion for new technology, I stayed on top of the flow to provide encouragement as well as to "be the parent" and monitor activity. So, though I can still understand much to a relative degree, that other world is exploding with such ferocity that one without the passion sits on the shore and gets wet only up to the toes.
Which led me to thinking about how much I don't know, but would like to know. And how do I choose one avenue from another. Like feasting at a buffet--it all looks so tempting, but overstuffing means lethargy. So, now I am thinking about passion again. What sparks me? And I can truly say at this moment, not much. Although being away from the world for this brief visit has rekindled some flame. Somewhere over the past few years, I neglected my flame.
I think the shift I have made in work was a response to the need to feel and not merely do.
I will leave for home this weekend with a small fire burning in my belly.

One more thought

Driving to work today, I came up behind a car with bumper sticker.....Bullshit. A new one for me...it made me laugh.

Cabitat for Sanity

The kittens are adolescents and longing for freedom. So, Tim and I scouted the land and came up with some recycled fencing to craft a Cabitat for Sanity. Our sanity. We now have a large two-story enclosure off the front of camp for the teen queen kitties. They wrestle over the “way up high spot,” favored among the four perches we created. The culvert is a hit, as is the climbing tree. Access is through the window, so it’s been just a tad drafty inside the house.

Our morning routine has now changed. The first order of business is “open the window, Mom.” Empress Chiperoo, the 15 year old matriarch, sits just outside the enclosure and taunts the teens on her 10 minute morning walk outside the camp.

Coming up for air...

Spring appeared over the weekend—weeks late but welcome. We managed to keep the most of the road despite the two intense Nor’easters that blew up our way. It is sadly eroded by the river that ran through it. I’ve many hours of raking and shoveling in my future.

Been reflecting much lately about life and personal choices. I’ve a dear friend who has been diagnosed with ALS. He is the type of person who is always helping others, smiling, and creating laughter. The whole situation makes me angry, but if anyone can beat the odds, my friend will.

Last week, another friend lost her dad and brother in just three short days. And the week before, an associate’s seven-month old child died—sudden infant death.

So, I am glad I made the choice to cut back my work time in July and start building my home time. This year’s big fund-raiser was the most challenging of the past nine years. I’m ready to cede that work to others.

Peas, lettuce, and spinach are going in the garden this afternoon. The ground smelled so delicious when I passed the garden plot on my way to the Jeep this morning. Rich, brown, and ready to sprout. Uncovered the herbs and found new growth amid the thyme, chives, and sage. The lilies and Solomon’s Bells are poking their heads out for the new season. And the fat pussywillows stand in the jar by the window. Spring.

Ben Franklin's Not Home

Up way past bedtime in the town that rocked the nation....Philadelphia, PA. The first thing that comes to mind when I arrive in this town is The Hooters. A great Philly band that opened Live Aid in 1985. "And We Danced" is a not only a fine dance tune, it'll get you through rush hour traffic in New York.
Traveling for work this week. I am always reminded when I hit the east coast megalopolis just why I live in rural Maine. The energy reaches me, but the smell, congestion, and highway mania are draining.