Good Sense

I did something yesterday that I haven't done in a long time.  I actually finished a chore that has been hanging fire for, oh, say two years.  It's amazing how one can see a thing that needs doing and then unsee it and ignore it, but by golly, I had done just that.  What the impetus was to do the deed, I don't know, but suddenly the urge was there and, uncharacteristically, I acted on it.  It took three full days of sticking to it without let up.  It's not like me to be so single-minded as I tend to become distracted and head in another direction; not this time.

In case it doesn't show, I have a tremendous sense of accomplishment.  That's a good sense.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Possible Solution

The Uninvited comes every evening just as the sun drops over the horizon.  I can't stop it from coming, but I may have found a way to get it to leave.  As soon as I hear the first nibble (bad table manners), I turn on the whole-house fan.  That makes one heck of a racket and hopefully scares it's socks off.  I may have to flip the switch one more time before the creature can't take it and all is quiet again.

There is a small drawback to this plan.  No matter how nice the day, the temperature plummets at sundown.  Even though the fan is on for just a few minutes, it does it's job well and sucks what warmth there is up and out of the house.  Oh well, worth it if it scares off the critter.  I'm guessing the Uninvited is either a mouse, squirrel, or rat.  There would have to be a noticeably large hole for anything bigger.

Wish me luck!

Stay safe.  Be well.

Things That Go Bump

What was that?  I know I heard a sound and thought it was out on the deck.  It could have been a wind or maybe one of Missy's friends come for a snack from her bowl.  Oh well, it stopped, whatever it was.

No, wait, there it is again.  Hmmm.  I don't think I like strange sounds on a dark night.  Volume off on the TV.  It's coming from there...no, over there.  No, wait, it's something rolling on the roof.  Oh crum.  What is it?!

I don't know what it is, but something has moved into the attic (crawl space) and is rearranging things to suit itself.  The living room has a pitched ceiling, thus the rolling sound.  I am faced with a real conundrum.  I sure can't get up there myself, and the space is too tiny for a grown man.  I can't send one of the cats up there to dispatch the critter, and wouldn't anyhow.

The Uninvited (great scary 1944 movie with Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey) appears to be nocturnal.  Not exactly how I want to spend my evenings, listening to things that go bump in the night.  I really have to give this some thought.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Workin' It

Dang it!  I took a couple of good photos of Michael yesterday and wanted to share them, but, and it's a big but, thanks to a few 'updates' to the system, I can't.  I'll work on this and try again soon.

Michael is so darned smart and he knows how to work it to his advantage.  When we go outside, I sit on the porch and Michael does his thing.  The routine had been that he'd hit the bushes first thing and do his business, then we'd sit awhile together before going in, timing of my choice.  Well, he decided that he could extend our time by telling me first that he didn't need to go, he just wanted to sit with me and enjoy the view.  That was alright with me, we do that anyhow, and then go in.  Now we go out, he says he just wants to sit, we sit, and then I'll say, "Well, what do you think, ready to go in?"  "Oh, no!  I have to find a bush, Mom, now!"  Then, of course, we have to sit a bit longer.  I wish Michael could go outside on his own, sans leash, but he has a penchant for going down to the road and I can't let that happen.  Well-meaning people up here pick up any "stray" dog and take them to the pound.  Facebook is full of such incidences.  It costs a bundle to get the animal out, not counting the worry because they didn't come home.  Don't tell Michael I'm on to his plot.

Ralph has started something new and it happens every day.  He'll come up on the arm of my chair, reach over, and start making muffins on my arm...that kneading thing cats do, and he really works at it.  I wonder what he's thinking as he pummels, staring off into nothing, and why start this now.

Many thanks and appreciation to all veterans, today and always.

It's going to be another beautiful, sunshiny day.  Yay.  We'll spend a good portion of it outside, I know.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Light My Fire

(Light My Fire, The Doors, 1968)

It rained almost all day yesterday.  Michael didn't dawdle on his outings, but we still came in thoroughly chilled.  The time had come to light up Stove.  I'd been making do with a puffy jacket (in the house) and the heated beanbag, but it just wasn't enough with the dampness.  Bringing in wood is more of a challenge this year.  Difficulty walking will do that to ya, but I got the job done.  After a year, I had to rethink Stove's intricate flue system...open this thingy and that, make sure the other doohicky is closed...okay, go for it!  Boy, it sure felt good.  Ralph and Celeste finally peeled themselves off my lap and stretched out before the hearth, and Michael lay full out instead of lying curled up in a ball with his tail covering his nose.  They probably wondered what took me so long to light a fire.

The sun is out today.  Stove may get another day off.

Stay safe.  Be well (and warm).

How Green Is My Hilltop

One of my all-time favorite movies is 'How Green Was My Valley' (1941, Maureen O'Hara,Walter Pidgeon, Roddy McDowell. Donald Crisp, Sara Allgood).  It certainly comes to mind now because, after just the few days of rain, my hilltop has burst into technicolor...green!  (Which is funny because the film is black-and-white.)  When Chuck came over on Tuesday, he said my driveway is almost invisible, covered with the same green as in the fields, and I, who sits on the porch and goes no farther, can see that the little pathway from the drive to the house changed color almost overnight.  Helper Dude is going to have weed-eating job security this year.

Up above, the oaks are turning brown and there is the constant patter of dry leaves hitting the ground.  Michael shuffles through an ankle-deep carpet of rustling leftovers to find his favorite spots to piddle.  Our morning outings are brief in the damp and chill, but we do enjoy getting out in the afternoons to find a patch of sunshine out of the breeze.  When it's really nice, I leave the front door open so the cats can get their dose of vitamin D, too.

Looks like we're going to get more rain today.  It'll keep the green going and growing.

Stay safe.  Be well.

I See A Pattern

A definite pattern is emerging, this one day on, one day off thing.  I haven't decided whether to go with it or try to overcome it, but it's there.  After that day of waiting for he who never came, I got so much done yesterday, stuff that has been hanging fire for ages.  True, I move at a snail's pace, but I did keep moving.  I'd like to keep the momentum going, but the creaks and groans getting out of bed tell me this is going to be a do-nothing day.  Ah well, Scarlett, tomorrow is another day.

Yesterday was also Visitors' Day.  Florence came with a very welcome shopping delivery and had time to sit and chat for a bit.  I so enjoy her company.  Chuck also stopped by later on.  He is kind enough to take my trash down to the big road, and he likes to talk.  He's a man with a vast history of world-wide experiences to share.

Michael provided a reason to take breaks throughout the day.  He does this mind-meld thing, sitting directly in front of me and staring intently into my eyes until I get the message.  "You.  Will.  Take.  Me. Outside.  Now."  For a nonverbal dog, he makes himself very clear.  On these recent chilly days, sometimes all he wants is to lie in a patch of sunlight.  I'm okay with that.

I think today will be a sit-and-plan day.  That's the pattern.

Stay safe.  Be well.