Get Moving

The weatherman is, unfortunately, right on the mark.  It got hot yesterday, and today is to be more of the same.   We're pretty casual about time here, but this is going to require a change in our routine.  As I've said, Michael likes to sleep late so I wait for him to tell me when he's ready to go outside.  With the heat, we're going to have to get moving earlier for our walks or get roasted like potatoes.  He's adaptable, and I think he'll appreciate the change.

I watched a documentary on the Tulsa Massacre.  What a terrible, horrific, shameful event in our history, and I never knew about it.  Just as with the WWII internment of Japanese Americans and the treatment of indigenous people still, white America has a lot for which to be ashamed.  Perhaps, hopefully, bringing our sins out into the open will bring awareness and change.  Hopefully.

Well, if I'm to stick with the program, we'd better get moving.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Niceness Has Nothing To Do With It

As the saying goes, "He's so nice he'll give you the shirt off his back."  Well, at this time of year you might get his shirt, but his attitude has nothing to do with it.  Mornings have been quite pleasant.  Michael and I spend extra time outside enjoying the cool breeze in the shade, sometimes even sitting in the sun to take off the chill.  However, by afternoon the doors are open, the fan is on, and the the long-sleeve shirt has been traded for a tee.  I can see tank tops in my future, my near future.  It's supposed to get as high as 108 in the valley next week!  That's 'fry an egg on the sidewalk' weather, and I'm not looking forward to that.  I know it will be cooler up here, but 'cooler' is such a relative term when you're wiping sweat off your brow.

I got a wonderful surprise phone call from my friend Tinka yesterday.  She recently moved from Fiddletown to Louisiana on the other side of the world and I hadn't heard from her.  We didn't see each other often, but talked frequently and I miss her.  I wouldn't wish the throes of moving and downsizing on anyone.  What she's been going through would break the back of a mule, poor thing.  We had a long, grand, catch-up conversation.

Well, let's see what shirt I'll start out with today.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Shake, Rattle And Roll

Shake, Rattle and Roll, song, Bill Haley and His Comets, 1954.

Coming up from Southern California, I am no stranger to earthquakes.  I've been in some doozies down there and some pretty good shakers down in the Sacramento valley.  They're pretty uncommon up here, so it took me a minute yesterday morning when the big, heavy mirror in the bedroom started to, for lack of a better term, quiver.  Sitting at the computer, I didn't feel a thing, but the mirror was doing a shimmy on the wall.  Ah, an earthquake.  Turns out this one was centered in Lake Tahoe, over two hours away.  When I say Lake Tahoe, I mean the middle of the lake!  This was a pretty low-magnitude quake, but it's amazing how far those ground ripples can travel.  If there were aftershocks, I didn't feel them.

That was enough excitement for one day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

That's Entertainment

That's Entertainment, 1974 MGM film to celebrate 50 years in the industy.

Cats have a boundless capacity for amusement, and it doesn't take much.  A penlight, a feather, their sister's tail and they're off and running, pouncing, chasing.  They will sit mesmerized by a fish tank or bowl.  I never feel bad about having to leave Ralph and Celeste on their own.

Lately, now that it's warming up again outside, lots of Lizzies come out in the afternoon to sun themselves on the porch.   They really soak it in and will not move if Michael and I pass within inches when we step out for a walk.  They have become a source of fascination for Celeste and her brother.  They will sit like statues at the screen door, watching for I don't know what.  A leaf will blow by and is totally ignored; they're focused like a laser on the lizards.  Go figure.  I feel I should serve popcorn.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Wasted Days

'Wasted Days (And Wasted Nights)', song, Freddy Fender, 1974.

Well, that was a day I'll never get back.  Leaving Michael in charge (the cats can't be relied on), I made the trek to town.  As far as I could tell, there was only one other victim in Vampire Hall, so I mistakenly thought this would be a quick in-and-out visit.  I was wrong.  I wasn't inspired with confidence when the sole nurse kept muttering her list of supplies as if she weren't sure of procedure.  Oh goody.  It goes like this:  a quick blood draw to be sent to the lab...and wait for fifteen minutes or so.  I've got good, ropy veins on the outer side so it had surprised me that Nursie Person had chosen veins on the tender inside of my arm, but I don't tell  professionals how to do their job.  The lab was either backed up or had gone to lunch because it took over an hour to get the results.  That's okay, I was there for the duration.  When word finally trickled down, evidently the results were borderline.  There was a conference about whether to do the phlebotomy or not.  The decision was to go for it.  Miss Newbie girded her loins and picked her largest needle...and couldn't get it in the right spot.  Aarrgh and ouch.  She gave up and asked for help.  Another conference and a call to my doctor.  After nearly two hours, the decision was made that I didn't need the procedure and was set free.  I nearly ran for the door.

A quick stop for some shopping and, bruised and battered, I headed home.  Home sweet home!

Stay safe.  Be well.

Give Me A Minute

I had a real bad case of the Grumps yesterday.  There wasn't much that could please me, and that's the sad truth.  "Oh, please, Michael...again?"  We'd been out several times already, but there's no way I could tell those eyes no, so out we went.  It's Michael's habit at a certain time in the afternoon to go over to the picnic table under the oak and we just sit.  It's not a 'business' outing.  We just sit.  He has scraped out a comfy bunker for himself in the dirt at the end where I sit at the table.  I was ready to complain about the chill wind and just about anything else that came to mind.  I should have been rejoicing because I'd thought of enough excuses not to go to town that I'd put it off another day, but as I said, not much was going to please me, so there.

Then I took a minute and looked, really looked, at my surroundings.  All the shades of green in my yard and on the hills across the road.  Clouds boiling up with the promise of rain (we didn't get any, but the thought was there).  Birds flitting across the sky and their chirp and flutter in the tree over my head.  And the quiet, the blessed soul-balm quiet.    Farview worked its charm again and my grumpiness drained away.  Thank you, Michael.

It was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Bean Bag Blues

Here it is toward the end of May and I'm back in the puffy jacket and heating the bean bag again.  It's cold!!  There were reports of snow just up the road a piece.  What's up with that?  Michael and I didn't dawdle on our outings because of the icy wind.  Even in the sunshine, when there was sunshine, had no warmth.  Talk about unpredictable.

A word about medication.  I really appreciate my insurance.  One prescription would be nearly $500!!  As it is, I'm in the $50 range.  Good grief!  Who's getting the profit here?  'Nuff said.

Ah well.  Things to do, places to go.  Drat.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Taking The Lead

Michael was his usual noncommittal self when I opened his package yesterday.  I was pretty excited, though, to find an extra-long lead or leash, what I know as a longe line.  What he does not realize yet is that his Cousin Sandy had sent both he and I a measure of freedom.  It means I can loop the lead over a post and Michael can do Michael things while I can get a start on the weeds in the front garden.  He will not be exiled to the house and I will not go into guilt overload.  Of course, now I've lost my excuse to just watch the weeds grow.

Michael came to me as a support dog.  I didn't think I needed one. As I said, it turns out I do.  I hate to go anywhere without him now, even out the front door.  After double-checking, he accompanies me to doctor appointments and to Walmaet.  He isn't permitted at the local (only ten miles away) grocery store, so I just don't go there much anymore.  Serves 'em right.

A pretty chill wind was blowing yesterday so we did not give the lead a trial run.  It was enough to dig out the puffy jacket again.  Nature is having one of her pendulum mood swings with tank top to turtleneck weather.  Knowing what the summer will bring, I'm not complaining.

Truck is going to the shop today to get his A/C fixed and have a well-baby checkup.  Whoop whoop.

Stay safe.  Be well.  (And thanks, Sandy.)

Mail Call

We just got back from taking the trash down to the big road (fell asleep yesterday and didn't make the run).  It's a good thing I wake up early because the big truck makes our stop at 5 a.m., and he's punctual.  Michael thought I'd flipped my lid when we went out into the dark, but he's a pretty much go-with-the-flow kind of guy.  I took the opportunity to pick up the mail, which I certainly do not do every day.  Almost all I get is junk mail and bills, and I'm in no hurry for either, so it was a surprise to find a small package in the mailbox today.  An even greater surprise was that it is addressed to Michael.  I'm used to "How are you...and how is Michael" in a conversation, so it shouldn't come as a shock that he is now getting fan mail.  The postmistress must think I've taken in a gentleman...at least related.  I'm waiting, and making Michael wait, until daylight to see what he's been given this time.  Nice way to start the day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Coming Attractions

Looks like the grape harvest is going to be a bumper crop this year.  We'll see if I get to enjoy any before the birds and squirrels get them all as they have in years past.  These are seedless Red Globes.  There is another vine on the other corner of the now-delapidated garden fence that is a Thompson seedless.  My two vines seem kind of dinky when I'm surrounded by acres of vineyards.  To each her own.

Yesterday's visit to Vampire Hall (there are those bats again) went well, trip to town notwithstanding.  I did ask about bringing Michael with me and got an iffy answer.  On reflection, I've decided that's not such a good idea.  I hate to leave him home, and have realized he is not just a support dog, he's my support dog and I didn't even realize I needed one.  These are outings he wouldn't enjoy, but I do miss my constant companion.  He makes leaving the house so much easier when we go together.

Stay safe.  Be well..

Just A Word

The bat house.  All it needs is to be hung, and possibly painted with a Welcome sign (no, bats can't read and it might scare them).

I want to say a word or two about my friend Florence.  We've been friends for lo, these many years now and her skills never fail to impress.

Back in the dawn of our friendship, we were both single.  I had moved into a condo with a large, unfinished backyard.  Florence took one look and said, "You need a deck," and started the search for materials.  Like the bat house, Florence found and used recycled scrap lumber and built the perfect addition.  No plans, no instructions, just Ta Da!  She invited me up to her cabin in Hayfork.  I knew she had built it herself, and didn't know what to expect.  What I found was a charming two-story rustic cabin with as many amenities as the remote area would allow.  Simply amazing.

Florence is in the process now of building a greenhouse and somehow got sidetracked into bat houses, probably because of excess scrap lumber.  With Florence, nothing goes to waste.  I was happy to contribute a little when I had my deck replaced.  As in The Field Of Dreams  (1980, Kevin Costner, James Earl Jones), "If you build it, they will come."  In this case, if you need it, Florence will build it.

Another trip to town today.  Evidently this is to be a weekly event for awhile.  Aarrgh.

Stay safe.  Be well.

California Gold

Strewn like handsful of gold coins across the property, pockets of California poppies have popped up everywhere.  These are in the weeds out by the 'garden,' now defunct.  The dreaded foxtails have put out their wicked seed heads already.  Were it not for the flowers, Helper Dude would have whacked the weeds down, but he knows better.  Out of the pounds and pounds of wildflower seeds I've strewn over the years, the poppies are the only ones to survive.  Oh well, it's a case of 'take what you get and be glad that you got 'em.'

Yesterday was my day for celebration, beginning with my daughter's annual and traditional rendition of Happy Birthday, guaranteed to start the day with a smile.  Clay called later in the day from New Hampshire, where he'd gone to watch the NASCAR race, and I heard from my other sons via texts, even from Hawaii.  I heard from my niece, also in New Hampshire, and had a lengthy conversation with a  great-nephew, her son, in Massachusetts.

In the afternoon, Florence and Dan said they'd be stopping by, a welcome visit.  When they arrived, Florence brought out one of her latest creations...a bat house!  I am thrilled, and it's a timely gift.  I've had an affinity for bats ever since I was a little girl and my parents took me on a trip to Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, where we watched the swirling funnel cloud of bats streaming from and returning to the cavern twice a day.  This was long before the cavern was open to the public, and it was as it had been in the beginning.  It's the start of mosquito season here, and the bats won't be far behind.  The thought of having a sanctuary for the furry, leather-winged creatures right here is grand.  Dan and I engaged in one of those 'remember back in the day' conversations (Florence is the baby in our group), beginning with the old wooden box-style telephones that hung on the wall and rolled on from there.  They'll be back next week to hang the bat house on the barn wall.  I am excited!

It was a better-than-good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Time Out

Lately I've been reminded of my dad, who, when asked, "How are you?," would launch into a detailed description of what he considered his current health (he was fine).  "Daddy, people don't really want to know everything.  It's a courtesy question."  "What am I supposed to say then?"  "Well, just say you're fine."   At the next social encounter and in response to the obligatory question, he spoke right up, "I'm fine.  That's a lie, but she made me say it."  I've had some health issues lately that are not worth going into and so took a few days' time out away from the blog.  I need to get back into the swing of things and will try harder.

Nature flipped a switch early this year and we went from pleasant to hot in a day, from heated bean bag to open doors and ceiling fan in the blink of an eye.  I sure am glad I had the screens replaced when I did; perfect timing for a change.  On our last trip to town I discovered that the A/C in the truck wasn't working, and have an appointment next week to get that fixed.  (Didn't I do that last year?)  Michael and I choose the timing of our walks carefully depending on where the sun is.  Those weeds that have shot up are already turning brown.  I think it's going to be one of those years.

I haven't got a picture yet, but one of the double peonies opened up yesterday.  Gosh, they're such pretty, pretty flowers.  I have my daughter and Craig to thank for these.

I have a lot of trips to town in my future, but today is a time out and I'm darned well going to enjoy it!

Stay safe.  Be well.

Everything's Coming Up...

Not just roses (song from Gypsy, 1959 Broadway musical, think Ethel Merman) the peonies are starting to burst open, too.  These are always the first and are singles.  These flowers are nearly four inches across.  It's as if they know they aren't as showy as their full-blown double cousins and want to hit the stage running.  Regardless, I await the buds' opening like I was waiting for the curtain to go up...and the deer and squirrels don't eat 'em!  I long for color in my yard.

The roses and peonies are being overcome by weeds.  Almost overnight, and definitely in a matter of days, weeds have gone from ground cover to sometimes two feet high, and that's not an exaggeration.  Pre-Michael, I would be out weeding every morning.  It's hard to pull weeds and hold onto a leash.  I don't know if Michael would still take off up the road and I'm not willing to take a chance.  He would probably take abandonment in his stride if I left him in the house (he's such a trouper), but I hate to disappoint him and he does love his outings.  I've got to hunt up the lunge line I used to use with the livestock.

The glazier's helper came yesterday and installed the new picture window in the living room.  It's grand to be able to look out and not see "rain" dripping down between the panes.  There was a hitch, however.  I had discovered another 'break' in one of the smaller windows that was also leaking.  I'd thought it was just the cloudy old screen, but no.  Another wait and more $$$.  Sigh.  If it's not one thing, it's another...always something and it never ends.

Michael doesn't know it yet, but we're going to go to town today.  He likes it.  I don't, but what cannot be cured must be endured.

Time to get this production going...the play must go on.

Stay safe.  Be well,

Flowers For M'lady

Flowers for, and from, m'lady on Mother's Day, a timely gift from Nature.  The Cecile Brunner rose is really showing off this year.  Talk about neglect...Steve never got around to running a water line so it and the weeds thrive on neglect.  The chicken wire fence was put up to protect the baby rose bush from deer when it was first put in the ground...now it just protects the weeds.  It's still a delight for the eyes.

These roses weren't the only ones I received yesterday.  My son Dave drove up on his Harley in the afternoon and gifted me with a lovely bouquet.  How he managed that with the flowers remaining intact, I don't know, but he produced them with a magician's flourish.  They were appreciated almost as much as the gift of his time.  Covid sure has put a crimp in our family gatherings, and phone calls from the others would have to do.  Gosh, I miss my Kids.

Michael, ever the genial host, came out to greet Dave and join us for awhile on the porch.  Social duties accomplished, he retired to the house, as he always does.  All things in moderation.  No sense in overdoing it.

I had a lovely visit with Dave, no surprise there, and the time went way too fast.  Our goodbye "Love you" were hidden by the roar of the motorcycle.

It was a very good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Skipping Along

Remember what a triumph it was as a child when you became coordinated enough to actually do that hop-shuffle thing called skipping?  It was almost like coming of age.  I must be reverting to childhood these days because I'm doing a lot of skipping.  I skip going to the store unless I need something crucial.  I skip cooking if there's cereal in the cupboard and milk that isn't long past its due date (I don't use a lot of milk) in the fridge.  I skip a day of blogging because lately there just isn't much blog fodder.  I still sit in front of the computer of a morning and my mind is as blank as the screen.  Long gone are the days of milking goats, Louie the pig and Poppy the sheep, and Tattletale Tessie and that big flock of chickens.  Weekend parties and cooking for twenty or so friends and family are well in the past.  I can't blame it all on Covid, but the pestilence certainly is a factor.  Sigh.

Once is enough for Michael to consider even a chance event a habit.  In addition to our "business" walks, we now go out twice a day to just sit.  We sit in the sun in the morning and in the shade in the afternoon.  Since he takes the lead, our direction and destination are his choice.  He hasn't wanted to head down the driveway lately so I haven't got a shot of the Cecile Brunner rose that is heavily laden with those delicate little pink roses that always make me think of prom corsages.  It's really outdoing itself this year.  The heirloom roses in the Pig Garden (Louie's old pen) are also blooming.  They were chosen for their perfume, not necessarily their big, blowsy beauty.  California poppies are bright orange exclamation points here and there on the property, and the peonies are heavy with buds, at least ten on one plant alone.  Yes, I enjoy our walks, too.

The sun's up and, as John Wayne would say, it's time to head 'em up and move 'em out.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Old Soul

I often wonder what Michael was like as a puppy.  Puppies are bouncy and playful and get into trouble.  Michael is none of those things.  Was he trained to be sedate or was he just born with his dignified, old-man personality?  Even when he shows a display of enthusiasm, as he does when we have "company" like Helper Dude, it is moderate and short-lived, a wag of the tail and a look in the face is about it.  I am thrilled if I get a lick on my hand.  "Oh!  You gave me kissies!"  Even his kisses are brief and dry and rarely given.

As I've said, Michael naps all over the living room or, to be honest, whatever room I'm in.  Lately, he's taken to lying under the end table next to my chair.  Like Goldilocks, he's found a bed that is just his size, a dog garage, as it were.  Maybe I'm desperate to interpret this as him wanting to be near me while not being so forward as to lie next to my feet.  I'll happily take it.

Helper Dude put in a couple of hours yesterday afternoon.  What that man can get done in such a short time is amazing.  I am so grateful for him his and many acts of kindness above and beyond his work.  He keeps this place from looking so ragtag and weedy.

Getting the screens replaced was timely.  As hot as it got yesterday, it was grand to open the second door in the living room and get a cross breeze.  In a week I've gone from long-sleeve turtlenecks to a tee-shirt, and I see tank-tops in my future, and I'm thinking about a haircut for Michael.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Cracked

As with so many things in the past year or so, the glazier's plans did not go exactly as planned, one of those "good news, bad news" events.  He had and did replace all of the screens that vengeful Missy had destroyed, but the big project, the picture window in the living room, the reason for the whole thing, is delayed.  Seems the double-pane replacement arrived at his shop with a crack and had to be reordered.  Ratchafratch!.

Michael continues to improve.  Maybe it was the equivalent of a 24-hour doggy flu.  We went on our regular walks and sat outside in the shade, and he ate and drank and took naps in all his favorite spots.  We sat in the shade because Nature has turned up the heat.  That and the north wind are a recipe for disaster...high fire danger.  Seems awfully early in the year for those warnings, and there's always some nutcase who insists on thinking it's a burn day.  Not!

Since I mentioned Missy, I do see her once in awhile and her bowl on the deck is emptied every day, but thankfully she has quit tormenting Ralph and Celeste (hope I haven't spoken too soon).  At the going rate, I can't keep replacing the screens.

Just getting light outside...and so it begins.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Sitting Up

Once upon a time, long, long ago I once worked with a doctor whose byline, when asked, "How are you?" would always answer, "Sitting up, taking nourishment, thanks," this while he raced up and down the hospital halls.  Michael wasn't running any races yesterday, but he is definitely feeling better.  We went for our walks and he ate and drank, so I think we're over that hump.

With one day being much like (okay, exactly like) the last, it's hard for me to keep track of what day of the week it is.  I've got to sharpen my skills as I've been put in charge of Trash Day for awhile.  The unknown neighbor (Camille knows him) who has kindly taken on this chore for us will be out of commission for a few weeks.  I scarcely know which end is up, but I'll do my best to get the bins across the road on time.

The glazier is coming this morning (I checked the calendar) to replace windows and screens.  I think he'll probably be working from the outside, but I'd better scrape off the dust just in case.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Gnats To You!

The seasons are changing again and we're headed well into spring.  One sure sign is the the presence of those pesky gnats in the morning and mosquitos in the evening.  Michael is plagued by the gnats and spends much of our walks rubbing at his eyes, a favorite insect target, while I must appear to have contracted St. Vitus dance as I bat them away from my face..

Yesterday was the first of May, Kentucky Derby Day.  Yes, of course I watched the races and yes, the family texted our picks for the winner of the Derby, but it was hard not to remember those days when we'd all get together to sip juleps and celebrate.  Clay's horse, Hot Rod Charlie, came in third, the closest any of us came to winning.  My pick, Midnight Bourbon (ain't that a surprise?) was a disappointing sixth, still better than my second choice, Bourbonic, at thirteenth.  Ah, well, that's horse racing.

I was a little concerned for Michael.  He seemed listless all day, hardly moving from one place to another and not asking to go walkies.  We went out only twice at my suggestion and he obliged and did his business, but there was none of his usual enthusiasm, just not like him at all.  Since he is always a late sleeper, it's too early to see how he is this morning.  I'm hoping it was just a 24-hour thing.

Well, it's on to the Preakness, not as glitzy as  the Derby, but a good race just the same.

Stay safe.  Be well.