Daddy was one of eleven children, so there were lots of cousins to play with growing up. (On Mother's side, not s'much.) My cousin Shirley was one of the "big kids," and I don't recall her joining in our games of tag or other roughhouse stuff. I can remember exactly what I wore and how beautiful she was when she asked me to be in her wedding. Boy, did I feel honored! I was almost ten and she was almost twenty (good grief, that was a long time ago!). Shirley and her husband moved to Oregon soon after. The thing is, we've stayed in touch all these years, one or the other calling every couple of months or so. She called yesterday to let me know she'd moved into a retirement home; after all, she's ninety now, widowed, and decided it was time. Our conversations are lengthy and far ranging and we laugh a lot. We reminisce about the old days and she keeps me up to date on who's doing what, when, and where now. Shirley is the glue that keeps that side of the family together, as I'm not the only cousin she calls. It was good to hear from her.
More drizzles yesterday and Michael did not dawdle as he piddled. We did have to stand a while when he saw a man working alone in the vineyard next door. As I do so many times, I wondered what he was thinking. At the very least, he is the nosiest dog I've known.
None of the critters wears a watch. They expect to be fed on schedule. The problem is that I have to adjust to a time change to meet their expectations. The clock says nine, but it's "really" eight. I'm trying. I'm really trying.
1 comment:
Maybe Michael's Service Dog training makes him watch people to make sure he is not needed for help - or that the person he's watching doesn't pose a threat to his owner. Or he's just really a quiet person in a dog suit :-)
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