Google has a definition of a guest, One who is invited for a visit, a dinner …

Apparently this little mouse did not comprehend that definition.  It was about a year ago my daughter said her brother whispered to her that he saw a mouse.  Why was this top secret? Because we live in the burbs, and mouse only live in apartments in that part of town.

I forgot about the sighting until a week later my daughter said she saw the mouse herself.  Now that that half of the inhabitants of the home confirmed the presence of our house guest, the hit was on.  We had to catch or kill our guest without letting my husband know.

i went to Walmart, because if you need anything, that’s the place to go.  I bought three types of rat traps.  Sticky paper, rat trap and something like a mouse motel.  Every morning I get up looking at the traps, but there was no mouse.

This guest was busy each night.  He left me little presents.  On my kitchen table, on the stove, my formal dinning table all over my fruit basket.  I became a cleaning demon, I used all types of disinfection, so that my family will not get some disease from our unwanted guest.

The man we were hiding the secret from saw the mouse himself and went out and bought rat baits himself.  Now we has dueling rat traps everywhere .  There were traps on the dishwasher, under the stove, everywhere the family thought that mouse will be.

After a week or two we had no luck in catching that mouse.  When I was losing hope and was trying to accept this rodent as an invited guest, I heard some squeals from the kitchen.  I asked my dome if he heard the sound, he told me the sound came for a door hinge in need of grease.  I listened silently, the squeals grew a little louder, so I followed the sounds.

As I pulled out the dishwasher , there on the sticky trap was out “Most Wanted” guest.  Every move he made, got him stuck even more.  Finally my two weeks of torture was over.  What a relief.  Now someone need to bag him and get him outside.  That task was relegated to my son.

Now this is the story of “The  Mouse Who Came To Visit”.  Hope you liked my story.

Guest

Today will be my first treatment for multiple myeloma .  The journey continues , and 5 months after the diagnoses I will finally start the treatment.  So far I had some steroids, lots of water, added lots of greens, exercise with weight training, and faith in my God, Jehovah Rapha.

I am feeling great because I believe that I am the healed of the Lord.Come with me today, first I will go to work , then a meeting at Headquarters.  Later.

It was good to be in Manhattan, I just love ” to look at the pretty people”.  The bustling, taxi cabs jostling for lane space, people crossing the street whilst reading their cell phones.  All this is a recipe for danger and chaos  which was more so by the blocking off of streets.  OMG what a headache, but I love it as long as I am not the driver.

Survived the city, now driving out to Mt Sinai to get my first chemo treatment.  First I had to wait, then take blood and vital signs.  Results were passable.  What do you expect, I am stress out, fearful and whatever other feelings.  The nurse came over and try to be as bubbly as she can.  “Nurse, how long does this take”. .. “Not long 15 minutes”. Feeling good, she pops her head back in “I am wrong it takes 30 minutes”. I am still feeling good.

The experience was not bad.  I am suffering a little tingling, perhaps nerves, but nonetheless , I drove home and ate dinner by myself.  Blogging now and then I have to take the last tablet.

On a tour bus to see the ruins of Masada, the tour guide said …”and to your left over the hills is Jordan.” We all took out cameras but me my iPad and snapped even though we see Jordan and all around was desert.

The featured picture captured the arid desert of the region, but in the midst of this seemingly barrenness, there was the date palms, and various growing things. I began to consider things in my life and realize that where there is death, there is also life. In the embers there I unburned wood and ashes.

We have to choose every moment what will we choose life or death, love or hate? Will we live in our desert and make it a home? I believe that we can grow and bloom in our desert, with water and tender mercies, we can grow wherever we are planted. Be the rose in the desert.

Desert

As a child I remember my father and great aunt reminiscing about family history. My father and I will visit family in St.Patrick’s on one Sunday every month. The elders would talk and laugh about years long gone. They talked about traits that some family members had or did not have. Most of the memories were about older more revered family members. I would see like a cloud of darkness settle over their faces when the story centered on Massie.

Massie was the direct link from the mother country. The story goes that Massie was a slave from Algiers brought to the island of Grenada. Massie had a daughter called Mannie, and from Mannie to Tantan and down the family line.

During a time of cholera, Massie fell into a coma, her master thought she was dead and had her buried. It was said that later there was sounds of knocking or scrapping coming from the coffin. I asked what had happened after the knocking was heard. I don’t recall getting an answer.

These stories told by my father was never recorded. I should have documented these for posterity, because they remain with me, but will be gone as sadly as it is, so is my dad.

For Posterity

This one word conjured images of a vacation I had in Italy with my then young family in 2002.  On the third leg of our trip to Venice.  From the train we took a fast boat to the island.  We were so excited that even the boat trip was exhilarating.  The kids were excited and it took all I had to keep them at my side.  We eventually landed and our hotel was only yards away from the dock.

Our day trip was to the island of Murano.  The family boarded another small boat, this trip was a little less excited until we ended up in the Murano glass factory. There we saw and met with artisans who created beautiful vases and colorful works of art.

One of the artisans started with the stick of glass and created two horses for my young kids. These they guarded fiercely through out the trip. As we landed at JFK, everyone rushed to their suitcases. On opening them, only one of the glass horses survived the crossing, though a little battered, it is still on my mantle place to this day.

Glass

Most people believe that darkness is evil or sinister, but I believe that darkness adds contrast. Think of life without contrast, what is white without black. What if there was a perpetual sun and no moon. Do we stay up working 24 hours as long as there is sunlight? No we need the darkness of night.

As an artist, I cannot paint a picture without black pigment, the darkness. Let’s face it, even while living in this world, darkness is the diversity that is necessary for balance.

Embrace the darkness and we can grow stronger to overcome our prejudices that is tearing this world apart. Light and darkness, white and black, truth and lies. We are the people of beautiful darkness.