Savoring Words

My last semester in college I waitressed at a Mexican restaurant called El Sombrero. One afternoon, while sweeping up the detritus of the lunch crowd, a professorial, pony-tailed gentleman at my lone table requested more water. I filled his glass, cleared his plate and before giving him the check asked “Will the water suffice, or would you like something else?”

He looked me directly in the eyes, put his head back, chuckled and said “Suffice, suffice, suffice. I have not heard that word in a while. And you know, I miss it. Thank you for reminding me of my loss.”

We smiled at each other, gave a gentle nod, and enjoyed the momentary intersection of a shared love….words.

Lately the word savor is on my IPOD playlist of words. I love the word. It appeals to all my faculties; a total sensory emersion. Whenever I taste new dishes, take in beautiful sights, or enjoy tranquil moments; savor is on my mind. Fun to say, the word can roll off the tongue or be drawn out while slowly enunciating, declaring something as sav---ory.

Anathema is another word I have recently been declaring. I overheard it in conversation the other day and realized this darkly descriptive word had gone missing from my life. This word means business; it can mean an abhorrence, loathing, or denunciation. If you really dislike something bring this word up from the back of your throat in a guttural tone to set everyone straight. It just reeks be gone, be gone, whatever you or it is.

Viewing the dumbed down vocabulary of newscasters, pop culture icons, and our own simplistic text conversations, I realize why the absence of incredible words is causing me distress. We are taking dressy, spirited, elegant, sometimes formal words and substituting, diet words of less substance; light and lazy, with no weight.

This attack on our language is anathema. I abhor it, I denounce it, and I want to see the return of high calorie words to savor, to relish, and to enjoy.

Emma The Bernese Wonder Dog Part II

As a puppy, Emma was not happy to be in a crate or at home staying with me.  Our first few months together were rough; she was new to life and our home, and I was new to suburbia.  But through puppy training we learned about each other and bonded.

Because she had gotten rather large, and because we have friends who aren’t canine friendly, we set up dog-free rooms.

Boundaries were set and for some reason accepted.  Two of the rooms had steps, and outside we used small green wire fences to act as barriers.  So silly, so easy, but Emma respected them and her favorite digging and hiding places vanished.

When my elderly father, Guido first visited he thought of her as prissy.  Prissy because the first time she was digging and was aware of mud on her paws, she let out a shocked whimper and ran to her water bowl for a quick rinse.  But as Emma continued to dote on Guido, giving him her rapt attentions, he fell in love.

Emma remains prissy. Each time she enters the house, she heads for her bed next to the door, gives us each paw to be cleaned and patiently waits for her treat. 

The Emma story of legend is one that stars my mother-in-law, a wonderful woman, petite and not comfortable around a big dog.

One holiday a day before the whole clan arrived she deposited three cards under the tree.  Each contained checks for different nephews. She told us excitedly that each card would sing a Frank Sinatra song when opened.

Our tree and the presents were in an off limits room.  As we left for lunch, we felt comfortable Emma would behave.  But this was one of the few times Miss Emma fooled us.

As we unlocked the door we found her sitting in her bed surrounded by small bits of paper: all that remained of the cards and checks.

My first concern was that she had eaten the song chips, or even the holiday candy and we were going to be headed for a Christmas Eve vet visit.  But nothing else was disturbed; not an ornament or a present was out of place.

My Mother-in-law came to the conclusion that it was personal, and we agreed that had she shown a bit of love rather than ignoring her, those cards might have been safe.  Now each year I give her a small wrapped box filled with shredded paper.

One day we were having a party and our planned sitter for Emma backed out.  Usually Emma feels her main job is to answer the door and greet guests, but as some partygoers were uncomfortable with dogs we opted to put her in an isolated bedroom. We gingerly left the TV on with a Law and Order episode, which as we found out, was a marathon.

Each time we checked on her, she was head first on the bed, staring at the TV in a trance. After five hours we never heard a whimper and she never moved.

Since then whenever she hears any Law and Order show, she plants herself in front of the TV and enters her own vicarious, NYC world.

Our Zen dog loves quiet.  After she greets guests she will respond to noisy voices with three barks that clearly tell the vocalist to pipe down.

Now we enjoy each day with Emma as her fairly young hips cause her to limp.  We know that at some point there will be no options…right now nothing takes away from her joy and happiness.  But unlike us people our dogs are rarely crabby, they just go on giving us love.

So send Emma some love and friend her on Facebook.

And as always remember to like Wilfrida's Closet.

Emma The Bernese Wonder Dog

I am not a dog person.  I didn’t grow up with dogs or dog people.  I don’t like them, don’t dislike them.  I take them as individuals, just like people.

When moving from a city to the rural world, my husband, the dog person, wanted dogs to be a part of that world.  His favorite breed, an English Sheep Dog, would not have done well in the wildness of our new yard.  So we set out to seek a suitable canine companion.

The runner up was a Newfoundland.  They are beautiful, loving, kind, and the size of a pony.  I never wanted a pony, even as a little girl.  I still don’t.  So the search continued.

As I was having lunch one day in an outdoor café, I noticed the couple next to us had a shiny black rug beneath their table.  I heard the shrill yapping of a small mop dog and watched it lunge toward the rug.  What ensued next was straight out of a cartoon.

The rug had a head, which turned toward the small dog, cocked an eye and raised a paw, very clearly communicating, ”Speak to the paw.”  The big rug then let out a great sigh, which sent the yippy dog running and whining all the way down the block.  The relaxed dog then transformed itself back into a rug.

A dog that is able to gracefully avoid confrontation and morph into home décor– that’s my kind of animal.

Inquires were made into the breed of the rug.  We were told that is was a Bernese Mountain dog, which I heard as Burmese.  I wasn’t clear on how a large furry dog could originate from Burma and survive.  I have since found that this confusion happens often.

The breed is sweet, sluggish, and great with small and older people.  The dogs come from Berne, Switzerland.  They are both working and rescue dogs and can be seen in Swiss Army knife ads.

My husband found a breeder, took pictures of the puppies and offered narration to my many questions.  Emma would play with my husband, run back to the litter, run to my husband, and return to her family.

Her level of social awareness has only escalated with maturity.

She will be seven in March has had a hip replacement and cancer surgery, yet maintains her Zen qualities.  When she is in the midst of a small crowd she will sit with strangers and stare into their eyes. 

On one particular day, Emma and I were having coffee at an outdoor shop.  An incredibly attractive man approached us and asked permission to pet her.  She had been flirting shamelessly with him for some time and his attention was hers.  He came over, took her head into his hands, stared into her eyes, and said, “if she were a woman – I would marry her.”  The 5 other women in the area in unison with Emma collectively inhaled and exhaled.

This deep enthrallment strangers find in Emma has led me to create her own line of cards.  It doesn’t hurt that she lives for the spotlight.

As a puppy she would freeze when a camera was spotted even if it wasn’t pointed at her.  She usually doesn’t wear clothes, but she enjoys costumes for photo shoots.  She is a most cooperative diva, working cheaply for treats and attention.

Next week a few “tails” of Emma from Emma the Bernese Wonder Dog: Part II.

Find Emma on her Facebook page and see her cards at The Emma Collection.

We Travel Because?

Why do we travel? There are the usual reasons - business, visiting family and friends, vacation, or to learn about and embrace another culture.

 On a recent trip to Asia I had several experiences that have kept me wondering about the nature of travel in our global world and how friends and families communicate during travel. Two tiny questions asked in the context of a shrinking planet.

In December I listened to an interview with one of the author’s of the 5.21 billion places you must visit before you die books. It was really late but I'm pretty certain the author suggested that travel is important because it makes you interesting; you learn, becoming more curious and open.  

Bottom line: travel is stimulating on all levels.

Two weeks after hearing this interview I was traveling in Asia.  I was standing on a small space waiting to view a gorgeous valley when a woman in front of me began to back up. I gently put my hand to her back and said, “Be careful I am right behind you.”  She looked at me and said, “It is so wonderful to hear English spoken.”  Normally I am quick to respond, sometimes too fast, but at this moment in time all the thoughts racing in my head were colliding. It was a five-car pile up in my pulsating brain.

“Really, what language were you expecting?"  Interestingly I am only hearing English. It is spoken everywhere albeit with many accents, it seems to be the universal language.

I wanted to ask her (and all vacationers in general) “You traveled how many hours, crossed how many bodies of water and paid how much so you could hear English spoken in countries where they actually have their own language?” 

I said nothing; very difficult for me, smiled shook my head wondering why people travel? If travelers want the Accidental Tourist experiences so one can feel that they are still at home --rent the DVD. Or go to Vegas or Disney, it is cleaner and closer. I hear they speak English.

Later in the trip, and in another country, we were eating breakfast in our hotel dining room.  Vacationing families have started to arrive from many different countries to celebrate Christmas. Most of the business travelers have departed for home.

As the business travelers left we noticed the dining area becoming quieter and quieter, fewer and fewer diners were speaking to each other.

On our last day I noticed large groups of extended families laughing, showing each other screens or texting each other. Weirder yet, a table of diners would send messages to another table, eagerly watching and waiting for laughter and acknowledgement.

As we started whispering it hit us…we were the only people speaking to each other besides the folks working in the restaurant. Everyone was using some type of electronic device, young, old, and in the middle.

Suddenly I visualized a very near future where restaurants will have speaking and non-speaking rooms.  The hostess will ask, “speaking or non-speaking?”

Virtual travel is much simpler, less expensive, easier to plan, less invasive, and requires no uncomfortable family dynamics. I think I saw the movie.

Again my question - why do we travel or have family time? We can now have quality family time without the encumbrances of pesky personal chatter. We can all speak in one language and record it on our cell phones while we join hands and sing It’s a small world. That’s a global anthem!

Tell us why you travel and what observations you've had.