Peering In Windows

There must be a 12-step program for people like me. "Hi, I'm Dena Harris and I like to peer into people's windows at night."

"Hi, Dena!"

I've done it since I was a child. Riding in the back of my parents car on the way home from visiting relatives, I would crane my neck to stare into the lit interiors of the houses we passed. And I wondered about the dark homes, especially the ones with NO lights on. Were the people on vacation? In bed? Were they driving home just like us and how scary and weird it would be to come home to a completely black house. Or were they just scary people, sitting in the dark in the middle of their house with the shades pulled?

But mostly I looked in the windows. I wasn't interested in seeing the people so much as what their home looked like. What color were the walls? Did they have a landscape painting or a deer head over the fireplace? Was the TV on and if so, what were they watching? I'd glimpse a grandfather clock or a dining room table covered in lace.  There would be bare bulb lamps and bookshelves filled to overflowing. Every house was different yet I felt I knew the people inside each of them. Probably because I spend so much time  guessing what their lives were like.

Even today, walking into someone's home, don't you get an immediate sense of who they are? I'd look into a home and see a TV flickering and the front door open to reveal the screen door and light on in the kitchen and I'd guess the family was getting ready to set down to a late supper.

Some homes looked tired and worn and it was easy to imagine the people in them feeling the same way. But maybe, I thought, they love their little home and think it's the prettiest and most comfortable house they've ever seen. Maybe they loved the way it looked with bare walls and slip covered furniture. Who could say?

All of this comes up because I had another little mini-bout with insomnia the other night and I climbed the stairs in the dark and looked out the window. To my right, my neighbors house was all lit up, although the blinds were closed. But it was obvious that even at 11:30 at night, people were active there. On the other side of our home, it was dark except for the dim glow of the front porch light. Everyone tucked in.

I read for 30 minutes and then turned the light out to head back downstairs. Now my neighbors brightly lit house was dark except for one room. I felt like I had been spying on them, knowing when they had been up and when they had retired.

I wonder what people think if they drive by our home and peer in the windows. Do they guess it's a happy home? Do they picture a big family living here? What do they imagine about our lives?

There's no way to ever know, but it sure would be interesting.

Ben Gay Rules

 I have made the recent and fascinating discovery, people, that BenGay patches  rock.

I pulled a muscle under my left shoulder blade Monday  while doing nothing more than raising my arms over my head in an early morning shake-the-sleep from your eyes stretch. I felt something go, "pop," and thought, "uh-oh."

It got worse over the next couple of days, moving up the left side of my neck. I haven't slept this week, as every time I move or roll over a twinge of pain wakes me up. On Wednesday I was on the phone to my friend Trisha, complaining that I was one step away from free-basing Advil.

"You know, when I hurt my back I used those BenGay patches," she said. "And they really worked." (That's right, Trish. If I'm letting the world know I use BenGay, I'm taking you down with me.)

I cancelled all my Wednesday afternoon meetings and hightailed it out to CVS where I bought BenGay heat patches and sugarfree spearmint gum. Talk about feeling old.

The patches are about 6" x 4" and are covered in a sticky goo that wields itself to your skin. They're cold when they go on but quickly heat up so it almost feels like you're being jabbed with mini hot-irons.  And oh--the relief. I had one on for a couple of hours last night before bed and slept through the night. Plus, my shoulder feels much better today.

Maybe I'll offer to do a BenGay TV testimonial: "Hi, I'm Dena. If you're like me, maybe you think you're too young to smell like a hospital bed. I used to think so, too. But now, I just pet my cats so my allergies stop me up and I don't even notice the smell.  BenGay. It worked for me and it can work for you!"

Really. Depends undergarments can't be far behind. 

Stray Cat

I've been sporadically feeding an all black kitten that has made its home in the bushes around the Dollar General Store at the end of our block. It's a friendly little thing. A little skittish at first, but once you start to pet him/her, the motor revs up.

I was pleased to note this morning, when I carried down food and water, that some kind soul had set out two bowls by the side of the building. One was filled with water and I assume the other had contained moist food as there was an empty can of cat food rolling nearby.

As I emptied the food I'd brought into the dish, the kitten seemed more interested in receiving a bit of love then the food, twining around my legs. Only after I'd petted her (let's just call it a her) for a few minutes did she sniff the food and then gobble it down.

She may have already had breakfast. As I was petting her I noticed a bit of fluff around her mouth. "What have you been into?" I mock scolded as I reached to pull it off. Only then did I see it was a tiny feather. And there were several other tiny similar feathers floating nearby. "I see," I told the kitten. "Did you catch your breakfast this morning?"

I'm not a fan of cats killing birds, but these strays have to in order to survive. So I was pleased the kitten seemed to have the hunter instinct and ability.  

Did you know the average life span for stray cats is two years? Not very long. This little kitten is probably already about 4 months old.  It breaks my heart to see how friendly she is. She would make a very loving pet. The problem is finding the household to take her in.

As much as I talk about wanting another cat, we really can't. I'm not even holding my own against my allergies as it is. Plus, Lucy hates other cats. Hates them. Olivia I think could learn to adjust. Lucy's still ticked at us for bringing Olivia home and that's going on 5 years.

I worry about when winter comes. Feeding a cat sort of puts the responsibility on you to have some concern for their health. Maybe we can build the kitty a little shelter? Depends, I suppose, on how flexible the Dollar General people want to be about it. I'm sure they're not wild about people feeding a stray cat outside their store, as this just encourages the cat to stay. Indeed, I often see the cat roaming the parking lot, hesitatingly looking at people as she decides whether or not to approach. 

I wish there were no more strays.  I wish I could find the black kitty a home. I wish she could know the joy of being pampered and adored. I wish, I wish...

Kill Your TV

Have you seen that bumper sticker? The one that reads, "Kill Your TV?" I chuckle every time I see it, yet the chances of my ditching my TV any time soon equal the chances of me turning out a gourmet meal. Ain't gonna happen, people.

Writer's magazines are interesting on this point. The majority of magazines urge writers to "turn off the TV." The rue it as time-waster that destroys the creative impulse. But I have read the other side that says TV can not only spark creative ideas, but watching how dramas and sitcoms are structured, as well as paying attention to dialogue, makes TV a real learning tool.

I tend to lean toward the "tv eats your mind" side.  I pulled a muscle under my left shoulder blade and have been semi-miserable the last couple of days. I didn't feel like doing anything last night so I plopped down on the couch in front of the TV about 6 and--I'm embarrassed to admit--didn't move until 10.

My head was pounding by the time I went to bed and I was restless in my sleep. TV overstimulates me, in a bad way. I woke up a couple of times in the middle of dreams based on the TV shows I'd watched that night. I felt fidgety and mentally tired all night.

So I'm going to more closely monitor my viewing time.  I'm sure I waste enough brain cells as it is--no need to speed up the process.

Everyone have a great--and TV free--day.