Rare Days

"And what is so rare as a day in June?  Then, if ever, come perfect days."  (James Russell Lowell, 1848)

I can't speak to those hot ones, but the last few days have lived up to Mr. Lowell's expectations, weatherwise.  The deltas blew in, blustery at first, then calming to a cool, gentle breeze.  Our walks have been so pleasant and the door is left open day and night.  The whole-house fan hasn't been called to duty, and most days haven't even required the ceiling fan.  Knowing this time won't last makes me appreciate it even more.

Another thing that won't last is this messed-up situation with the required meds.  The plan was to go get an abbreviated prescription after getting the blood draw, without which Doctor would not see me and decide how to proceed.  All this would not be necessary had the lab not screwed up.  Ah well.  Called the pharmacy before leaving the house.  They had not received an order.  Called the Dr.'s office.  "I'll call Dr. and remind him.  The pharmacy will call you."  Waited all day.  I don't know who called whom, but none were to me.  Late afternoon.  "Did you go get the lab work done?"  "No, I've been waiting for the pharmacy to call."  "Oh."  City dwellers don't understand it's about a three-hour round trip to town.  We'll try again today.

Our walks have been leisurely.  Like a weathervane, Michael sits with his nose to the wind when we're outside.  It's as if he's reading the breeze like a newspaper.  I wish he could tell me what it says.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Strange Bedfellows

Having seen any number of animal documentaries in which different species bond and form friendships, yesterday's encounter shouldn't have surprised me, but it did.  There is a chair on the covered part of the deck which Missy has stamped "Mine" and has become her hangout.  It is a padded table chair, nicely pushed under the little table, so it is like her own little protected cave. There were still bits of fur and other remnants from a recent snack on the mat when I stepped out to fill her bowl, so I know she's still earning her keep.  As she always does, Missy emerged for a rub-up and a bite to eat.  That's when I caught sight of other movement.  A large squirrel, possibly Robert the Raider, had been sleeping not a foot away from the cat.  Surprisingly, Robert did not dash away as one would think, but moved a few feet away behind some empty flower pots and laid doggo.  It wasn't until I stamped my foot that he finally took his leave.  Missy took no notice as he ran off.  Now, tell me why predator and prey should be in such close proximity.  It's just not natural.

The other day when I was not feeling well, I was on a phone call that I had to cut short.  "I'm sorry, but there's a horse, no, two horses running loose in my yard."  No, I wasn't seeing things.  Two beautiful brown-and-white pinto horses were making themselves at home here.  Fearing that the fence was broken down again, I called Arden so that she could tell Annie, thinking that some of her herd had gone walkabout.  Bruce came up and took a photo to post on FB.  The horses were not theirs, but it's not unusual for livestock to roam loose up here...pigs, sheep, goats, etc.  The horses were here for quite some time, but I found out later that they eventually returned home.  Ah, the joys of country living.

Celeste wants badly to be Michael's best friend.  She rubs up against him, tries to lick his face, and when we go for walks, I can count on her to be waiting at the door to greet him on his return.  Michael tolerates her attentions.  Go figure.

I'm still drinking enough water that, were it alcohol, would have me reeling like a drunken sailor.  (Why do sailors always get the bad rap?)  I'm well enough so that Michael and I will have to go to town today to finish up the lab work that was postponed.  That's enough to drive ne to drink.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Not-So-Close Encounter

Mr. and Mrs. Claus arrived yesterday, their sleigh loaded with goodies.  Dang the virus!  All of us wearing masks and keeping our distance, no kisses, no hugs, and I haven't seen Deb and Craig since Christmas or thereabouts (seems like forever).  Under no restrictions, Michael got a large dose of affection from Craig, one of his favorites.  It's no secret he enjoys the company of men.  Their bounty included cases of juice and sparkling water, a case of fruit cups, a case of Gatorade (for the electrolytes), and two cartons of yakisoba.  I tell you, I'm set for the duration, if the duration doesn't last too long.  The Kids had things to do so weren't here more than half an hour.  They had driven probably 75 miles to make this delivery...just a thank you doesn't seem enough.  One thing that didn't change was the "Love you!" as they drove away.

I'll bet they hadn't gotten to Mt. Aukum Rd. before I ripped open a carton and put a package of frozen yakisoba in the microwave.  Japanese stir-fried street food, yakisoba has wheat noodles, chock full of vegetables, with a very flavorful sauce.  I could live off that stuff.

A strong wind from the delta blew in all day, but it didn't cool off much here until the afternoon.  How welcome that relief was.  We've been hovering close to or at 90 for days.  Still drinking water like a survivor in the desert, I think I'm on the road to recovery, but didn't do much all day.  At least Michael got in all of his walks.

The one sad note to the day was finding Lonesome Lulu had gone to hen heaven.  She was a dear little thing, the last survivor from the flock BIL Stan had brought up.  We had established a rapport, impossible with that rotten, evil-tempered rooster.

All in all, it was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Close Call

I'm not much of a one for going to or even calling a doctor, but I knew something was really wrong yesterday.  I will not go into symptoms, but I knew it would not be safe for me to drive, so put in a couple of phone calls.  When I received a return call from the GP's office, I was stunned.  "Doctor wants you to go to the ER immediately.  Doctor thinks you are severely dehydrated."  Oh crum.  I explained why that could not happen.  "Then I think we should call the EMTs and have them take you in."  Oh, no.  Not gonna happen.  Given the current circumstances, the hospital was the last place I'd want to be.  I promised to drink lots of water and hope for the best.  And no, contrary to what seems to be the consensus, I am not stubborn.

Honestly, I could have floated a battleship with all I drank, and slowly started to feel better.  Camille called, saying she was going shopping and did I need anything.  Good friend, good neighbor.  She also offered to bring me some dinner.  When I realized I hadn't eaten in three days, I said yes to that.  (See, I told you I'm not stubborn.)  Wonton soup seemed a good choice, and it was.

My daughter just called and said she and Craig are going to Costco and would be bringing up some supplies today.  I don't know where she gets it from, but it doesn't do to argue with Deb.

Michael got short shrift on our very brief walks yesterday.  We dodged the bullet, and I hope to do better by him today.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Zzzzz

Nothing to report.  We did not go to town.  I slept.  I slept all day and well into the night.  Woke up about 2 a.m. and went to bed to sleep some more.  If this coffee doesn't kick in pretty soon, I may go back to bed.  Move over, Michael.

Stay safe.  Be well.

A Nice Surprise

What a nice surprise it was to have a visit from an old friend.  Joe's daughter is seventeen now, and their family bought goat milk from me for years, since she was a baby.  Joe is doing some work for the couple I bought Lucy and Ruth from, my first two goats and the start of Farview Farm.  Knowing Joe was coming here, they sent greetings.  The porch is becoming my meet-and-greet place.

A surprise of the other kind was a call from the oncologist's office, the one that was so adamant that I get the blood work done immediately.  Yeah, well.  I had told the phlebotomist to draw enough for both of the doctors with whom I have appointments, and she did.  However, the lab failed to perform the one test for...you guessed it...the oncologist.  Michael and I will be going back to town today.  I'm not happy.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Change Of Pace

I need to rethink my daily schedule...what I do and when I do it.  In winter, when daylight comes slowly, it's one thing to spend the early hours on the computer, writing the blog, checking FB, playing solitaire in the dark.  In summer, the sun gets up almost before I wake up and I find I'm losing what cool of the day there might be.  I waste more time watching the local morning news before taking Michael for our first walk.  By the time we're back, the heat is upon us and any incentive to do more is gone.  Old habits are hard to break, but this one needs to go.

I had a taste of home last night, sausage and hominy, a plain but very satisfying dish my mother used to make.  Most of the time Mother was adamant that everything served should be a different color, ensuring a good variety of food groups.  There were exceptions, sausage and hominy being one, German potato pancakes another.  On those nights we gorged on starch, as I did last night.  Steve would have been so happy.  Vegetables were definitely not his thing.  I asked him one night, insisting that he pick a green vegetable.  He gave it some thought.  "Spinach noodles."  Sometimes you just can't win.

If I'm going to keep my new resolution, I'd best get moving.

Stay safe.  Be well.

As Good As It Gets

Well, for a dreaded trip to town, this one wasn't too bad.  Traffic was light, I'd hit the sun/shadow thing just right, and the A/C was welcome on another hot day.  First stop, the local lab.  (Didn't have to go down to Cameron Park, another plus.)  Michael and I hot-footed it across the parking lot; in this case, not a joke.  It's got to be painful for my little guy on hot pavement.  Everyone in masks, hand sanitizer everywhere, and we were the only ones in the large waiting room for a short wait.  I had a moment's pause when the young (very young) gal explained that she was a student and would it be okay if she drew my blood or did I want someone more experienced.  Hmmm.  I had a flashback to when I was pregnant with my first child and had to go for a blood test.  A very large, 6'5" or better, man came out, muscles bulging, and that rubber tube tie-thing hanging from his mouth.  Ohmigosh, I thought, he'll probably just tear off my arm to get the blood.  Honestly, I never felt a thing, he was that good.  You don't forget the good ones, and I've certainly had experience with the other kind.  I think yesterday's little cookie was more nervous than I as she explained every step (not my first rodeo).  Neither of us needed to worry, this gal has a good future as a phlebotomist, and I told her so.

Michael and I made a couple of quick stops.  I decided I didn't need anything so bad that we'd have to go to WallyWorld and we got the heck out of Dodge.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Relax

When temperatures soar, not much gets done during the day.  Even Ralph slows down.  (No, I didn't pose him like this.)  A cousin noted on FB that her air-conditioner was on the blink.  At least she has one to fix.  When Michael and I went for our walks, I thought, "Well, at least there's a nice breeze."  Wrong, what breeze there was could have come straight off the Sahara.  I have a feeling the blog entries are going to be shorter and full of summertime whining for awhile.  I shall try to contain myself, but no promises.

Any cat activity yesterday came well after dark.  Both Ralph and Celeste pounced and chased after some unfortunate insect that had gotten in.  Michael would doze in one place until he'd heated that spot, then move to another.  At that, he got more exercise than I did.  It wasn't until nighttime that he stretched out on the cool tiles.

Some time back I had recorded a documentary on the polio epidemic of the early 1900s and 1950s.  In early high school, a girl I knew had suffered with the disease and wore one of those heavy metal and leather leg braces.  What I remember about that beautiful girl is that she never let it stop her.  By force of personality, she was one of the "in crowd" and was kind to everyone.  It hit a little closer to home when I was going with the Kids' dad.  He had had the disease when he was about 12 and spent the better part of a year in bed.  It left him with just a slightly withered leg and no disability.  The corollary with the current pandemic is that people were desperate to do anything and everything to protect themselves and their family.  Swimming pools were closed, crowds were discouraged, and self-isolation was the norm.  I remember my mother's dire warnings.  I also remember standing in a long line with my flock of Kids when they came, waiting to get them the Sabin oral polio vaccine.  I'd not been so sure about the live-virus Salk vaccinations.  The documentary was interesting viewing on a hot day.

Procrastination can last only so long and then reality strikes.  Nothing for it but to go to town today.  At least Truck has A/C.

Stay safe.  Be well.

A Day At The Races

(A Day At The Races, a Marx Brothers film, 1937)

There may be no joy in Mudville, but there certainly was jubilation at Sackatoga Stables yesterday when Tiz The Law won the Belmont Stakes, the first New York-bred horse to win that race in New York since 1882.  You have to get a kick out of the 35 owners, who go together in a big yellow, not-so-classy school bus loaded with beer to see their horses run.  (Not yesterday, of course, because of the virus.)  They are certainly loyal to their trainer, 82-year-old Barclay Tagg, who has been with the stable for 25 years.  Manny Franco, the jockey, had never ridden in the Stakes before, but he sure did a great job, Tiz The Law winning with a four-length lead.

I have to say I've really enjoyed racing during the Covid time.  They've shown back-to-back races from all the tracks without all the folderol of just one.  I'm more interested in horses than hats.

The heat has descended upon us again.  What can I say?  It's summer.  If Michael keeps shedding at this rate, he'll end up a Mexican Hairless!  George suggested I tether him in the back of the pickup and go through a car wash and let those big rollers brush him out.  (I won't.)

Ah well, things to do and thankfully no places to go.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Quirky

All cats are quirky, but Ralph is in a class all his own.  When I call him Ralphie Boy, I hear Ed Norton (Art Carney) talking to Ralph Kramden (Jackie Gleason) in The Honeymooners (1955 TV comedy show).

(Slight delay here while I enjoyed my daughter's Saturday morning call, not helped because I slept in today.)

Back to the subject.  I've mentioned before how Ralph will race from one end of the house to the other, brrrp-brrrping as he goes, and how he will pounce on his sister, seemingly because she isn't paying attention to him.  He evidently has some sort of time clock now, because almost daily at 4:30 in the afternoon, he comes down the hall yelling.  What's up with that?  Missy has put him so on edge that he hisses at the sight of her.

Speaking of Missy, she has taken up residence on the covered part of the deck.  She does spend part of her day in the feed barn.  That must be where she catches her protein supplements.  I can't say it's pleasant to find the inedible parts that she leaves when I step out the door, but I am glad she's "taking care of business."

Celeste has limited patience.  She will ask nicely to sit on my lap and doesn't understand when I say I just need some "me time."  After a couple of rub-ups on my legs, she simply leaps up, disregarding my wishes.  A cat's gonna do what a cat's gonna do, and deal with it, lady.

Out of order for the Triple Crown, the Belmont Stakes is running today.  You know what I'll be doing.

Stay safe.  Be well.

All's Well

Good friends are better than gold, and I'm a rich, rich woman.  I put in a call to Go-To.  "Houston, we have a problem," and explained the water (or lack thereof) situation.  "Could be a break in the line," he said.  "I'll be there."  He's a very busy man and I hated to add to his burden.  He's never failed to come to my rescue.

George had said he'd found a great deal on peaches and he'd be bringing me some.  "Some" turned out to be a lug (about 17 pounds!) of beautiful, rosy, perfectly ripe fruit.  In addition, there were so many bags of "deals" that we needed the wagon to get them to the house...everything from cereal to shallots and everything in between.  If George ever needed a job, I would highly recommend him as a personal shopper.  He saved me from that which I detest, going to the store, for a month or more.

We sat on the porch to talk.  I so enjoy that man's company, and I'm grateful for his time.  In addition, he was able to get my cellphone to ring again.  I had been doing the right thing, but not forcefully enough.  I'd been afraid I'd break something, although I was ready to throw the phone against the wall.

Go-To drove up.  Wouldn't you know, like a tooth that stops hurting just when you go to the dentist, Go-To checked the pressure tank, didn't have to do anything, turned on the water and it gushed like Niagara Falls.  ???  "Could have been this, could have been that, but it's working now."  Honest, I hadn't made it up.  He rushed off to rescue the next in line.

Michael had been so excited (as excited as Michael gets) to see his friend, and it wasn't because George always brings him treats.  I told George that Michael has made me so happy in so many ways, lately because, like Bessie Anne, he has started following me from room to room.  "I think he likes me!"

While there might have been time to go get the tests done after George left, I had lost incentive to go to town in the afternoon.  Never do today that which can be put off until tomorrow...that's my motto.  It had been such a good day.

I know what I'll be doing today...there are all those peaches to peel, bag up, and freeze everything that doesn't go into a pie.  Fresh peach pie...yum!

All's well that ends well.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Round Two

My cellphone went funky again yesterday for no good reason.  The thing is going to drive me bonkers.  I wasn't too worried because I had Deb's and Kit's instructions which I followed to the letter, but to no avail.  Ratchafratch!  Here we go in round two.

Stan, my BIL, had sent me a text in the morning (I can still get texts), saying that the wind was fierce down in the valley and remind me to fill the water buckets in case we lost power.  Good advice.  The wind never made it up the hill.

It's not a good thing when all my sets of bibbies needed washing at the same time.  I usually plan better than that.  I know I've said I'm not a fashionista, but yesterday was beyond the pale, even for me.  I threw the bibbies in the washer and dug out an old pair of sweatpants to go with a rather skimpy tank top.  I haven't worn the sweatpants since a time when I was much heavier.  The drawstring was in a knot, so not only did the pants balloon out like Bozo the Clown, I was in danger of losing the britches altogether.  I think Michael was embarrassed to be seen with me on our walks.  I know I was glad we live unseen on top of the hill.

George had also sent a most welcome text, saying that he planned on a visit here today.  I took care of some chores in preparation, but left cleaning the kitchen for this morning so it would look fresh, notwithstanding that we would stay on the porch.  It's been months since visitors have been allowed in the house.  Imagine my horror when I went to make coffee today and found, for the umpteenth time, that I had no water!  Since I still have electricity, that means there must be a break in the line somewhere.  Aarrgh!  When it becomes a reasonable hour, I'll put in a call to Go-To Guy and hope he can fit me in.

No water = no shower.  I was supposed to go to town later today to have blood drawn for tests, without which my doctor will not refill a prescription.  Not gonna happen.  George will just have to take me as is, with clean bibbies on a sweaty body.  Thank goodness for social distancing.

Stay safe.  Be well.

My Happy Place

My parents must have felt like they'd been visited by a cuckoo or cowbird when I was born.  Those infamous birds lay their eggs in the nests of other, unsuspecting birds to be raised.  As I've said, my mother was not an animal person, but she tolerated me.  She must have wondered about her child who could spend hours lying in the grass watching a snail crawl on her arm.  I was trying to figure out how those creatures motate without feet.  I watched anthills until Mother bought me an ant farm, probably thinking it would keep me from bringing any in the house.  She was horrified by my pocketsful of pill bugs, another bug with unique movement on seven pairs of legs.  She undoubtedly hated emptying my britches on laundry day.  I could keep all my horny toads as long as they stayed outside.  One got loose in the house and that was the end of that.  I was allowed one dog, Blackie, and one cat, Kris Kringle, both strays.  "Mother, may I keep him?  Please, please, please?"  (Persistence pays off.) 

Daddy tried.  "I'll take you to visit Aunt Jimmy if you'll put on a dress."  He'd settle if I just brushed my hair.  I'm not sure he wasn't disappointed that I wasn't one of those girly-girls.  I can imagine what he'd say about my bibbies.  He and I did share a love of horse and riding.  Mother threatened to leave home when he bought my first horse when I was twelve.  She came back after two weeks.

They accepted their foundling, but must have wondered when I asked for a leather "bomber" jacket for Christmas one year and a hunting knife another.  I got both and still have the knife.

I was fortunate that Steve tolerated my animal quirks.  I probably should have told him I was getting a potbelly pig before bringing Louie home.  He bought into the goats I acquired here, and the flock of fifty or so chickens.  "They're your toys.  Don't expect me to feed them."

This retrospective comes because ants are active in the drive right now, doing their best to set up housekeeping.  As I did when I was a kid, Michael and I stop to watch them every day now.  It's the fire ants that I worry about, the others are free to go about their busy lives.

The animal population here has dwindled over the years, probably a good thing.  Regardless, I'm in my happy place.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Looking Back

Writing yesterday's entry and then reading Kit's comment got me to thinking about how it used to be here in the States and our own dress codes of the past.  Modern women would think of us as Victorian if they gave us a thought at all.  No, Kit was right when she said we did not wear slacks to school.  I was in public school through my sophomore year.  On the last day of the year, seniors were permitted to "dress down" and wear what they liked.  I thought, what the heck, I'd give it a try.  My mother had made me a black-and-white checked jumpsuit and I was dying to wear it.  Yeah, well.  I was sent home as soon as I got off the bus.  So much for being a sophomore rebel.

The seasons dictated what women wore and I'm not talking about comfort.  One didn't wear white before Memorial Day nor after Labor Day.  White was for summer only.  Gloves were de rigueur for shopping or other outings, and were washed after every wearing.  One should never be seen with a smudged glove.  Hats were optional, but we all had a collection for "lady events" and church.  Mother reminded me to polish (yes, we did that) the backs of my shoes because "people will see you walking away as well."

I was in boarding school for my last two years of high school.  We mostly wore a uniform, but in an effort to keep us civilized, Wednesday was "dress night" and we were required to put on not just a dress, but a "dress-up" outfit and stockings.  This was well before pantyhose, and stockings required either a girdle (nice girls didn't jiggle) or a garter belt.  Stockings had a seam down the back and that seam must be straight.  I knew girls who had a run in their hose and cheated by using a ruler and an eyebrow pencil to fake that seam on bare legs.  While in public school we had worn black shorts and white camp shirts for gym class.  At boarding school, the uniform for gym was a modest blue knee-length jump dress and bloomers.  (I'll bet there are some who will have to look up bloomers.)

Looking back, we were nearly in the same boat as the Victorians, being as dictated to by the fashions of the times.  As I said, give me my bibbies and I'm good.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Not For Me

Another day spent at Downton Abbey.  They showed the last of the series yesterday and I'm very glad I caught it because they evidently will not show Downton ever again.  There was a suitable wrap up in the finale, but I'm sorry it's over.  It's a good thing I didn't live in that era and lifestyle; I'd never have made it.  For one thing, the ladies were forever changing their clothes.  Morning frocks, then change for lunch, again if one was going out or having guests, and yet again for dinner, not counting if there was a party or dance later.  Dressmakers must have made a bundle and milliners were right in there, too.  Every outfit had a matching hat.  Every episode of Downton was like watching a fashion show.

I do have a collection of hats.  A few are vintage from my younger days, and a large number are from my time in the Red Hat Society.  I have cowboy hats, mostly straw, and one felt Stetson that I treasure.  I had a wool deerstalker hat bought in London, but the moths liked it and it's gone now.  There are baseball caps and warm knitted hats, and the felt fedora a la Raiders Of The Lost Ark.  Yep, I have a lot of hats.  The funny thing is I wear only a few, mostly in winter.

No, I'll never be a fashionista.  Haute couture is not for me.  It was fun to take a peek into that world, but give me a pair of bibbies and I'm good.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Outdoors And In

What was I thinking when I bemoaned the lack of flowers here?  I am proven wrong at every turn.  I didn't get a photo of the tiny purple mountain lilies growing wild along the drive.  They follow after the Baby Blue Eyes and come back every year, as does the yarrow.  This one plant is going to be spectacular when all those buds open up.  Over the top of the lavender, which, of course, bloomed, there is the tip of a flowering hedge in this photo.  Since I no longer climb ladders, this photinia is out of control and desperately needs trimming.  Michael and I avoid that path when the honey-scented flowers open because they draw bees by the hundreds.  The air fairly hums with their buzzing.  We know how Michael feels about insects with stingers.  The iris have put on their show and are done, but the grey and green santolinas are just coming into their own.  I lucked out when I planted them because they are one plant the deer didn't eat and the squirrels don't care for them, either.

Thank goodness for Michael and the pause button or I'd have been glued to my perch all day.  Instead of Saturday cooking shows, PBS was running a Downton Abbey marathon and I was hooked.  Mowing could wait another day.  Michael's outings could not.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Not Again (Again)

Good Neighbor Joe is probably going to start a petition to oust me from the neighborhood or, more likely, ground me from getting on Fu Manchu ever again.

It was a perfect morning to mow, cool with a nice breeze, exactly what I'd been waiting for.  I knew Arden was coming over, but thought I'd see how much I could get done before she arrived.  The weeds in the median had sprung up again so I started there and then made a few passes along the drive.  One star thistle in particular was as high as my waist.  That dreadful plant is the bane of the county.  Still no Arden, so Fu and I headed to the west field.  The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and we were tootling along and hitting our stride.  Then Fu dropped a wheel into an unseen hole and everything came to a screeching halt.  Not again!  Oh please, not again.  Couldn't go forward, couldn't back up, and I couldn't pull or push him out.  I can't tell you how I hated to make that call.  Mrs. Joe accepted my abject apologies and said she'd send him over.

Arden drove up.  She had bought a houseplant she couldn't identify, but knew it needed repotting (I happen to have a few dozen extra).  I had to interrupt our conversation when Joe arrived.  It didn't take him two minutes to free Fu, but I knew it put a hiccup in his day.  If I ever get the whole field mowed I'll be able to see and avoid those pits and can take Joe off standby.  At least he still takes my calls.

Thanks to modern technology, I was able to look up Anthurium on my cellphone to give Arden information on its care and feeding.  It really is a beautiful plant.  I enjoyed visiting with my friend; it's been a while.  When she left, it was too late to do more mowing and I'd kind of lost the incentive so I put Fu back in his shed.

Michael wasn't too happy with what I'd accomplished when we went for our afternoon walk.  "What have you done, Mom?  Where are my favorite piddle bushes?"  Wouldn't you know that when we went for the last stroll of the day it started to rain?  He wasn't too happy about that, either.  (I was.)

Stay safe.  Be well.

Cereal, Anyone?

As time goes on, I've begun to feel like a sound effects person for Rice Krispies:  muscles snap and joints crackle and pop.  At least everything still works, albeit slowly.  If I was in that race between the tortoise and the hare, the tortoise would beat me, too.  Ah well, isn't it a good thing that there is little here that needs to be done in a rush?

Not much of anything got done yesterday.  It was back to the spray bottle and fan and sitting very, very still for me in the heat.  Even this early, I can tell that today is going to be much cooler, thank goodness.  These days of respite make the others bearable.

The cats are telling me in no uncertain terms that their cereal bowl is, gasp!, empty.  My masters call.  I must obey.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Boats And Trains

When it comes to making changes, Duke Ellington would advise me to "Take The A Train" (1941) as the fastest way to get there.  I'm more of a "Slow Boat To China" (1948) kind of gal, especially when the temperature soars as it did yesterday.  It seemed a good day to do laundry for starters while contemplating just what and how I want to change.  Some time ago the clotheslines actually disintegrated (a job for tall people), so I'm having to use the dryer.  When I was in town at WallyWorld, I asked for help finding clothesline.  I got that "you have two heads" look again.  "Clothes...line?"  "Yes, you know, to hang clothes on."  "Well, there might be some down by the irons."  I doubt she'd ever used one of those, either.  They sell clothespins, but no clothesline.  Sigh.  One thing about using the dryer, you have to stay on top of things and take everything out right away or the clothes wrinkle and you have to start all over again.

While waiting for the buzzer to sound, I started watching recordings of Downton Abbey, one of my all-time favorite series.  I've seen it so many times, it's like greeting old friends again.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the Robert the Raider clan (too young to be Robert) creeping along the deck.  I got the last laugh this time as I have not put any plants, aka squirrel fodder, back out there.  I'll admit to the evil thought that he might run into Missy, but she evidently was off somewhere else.

Michael is taking this shedding business seriously.  I brushed another puppy-size ball of fluff again yesterday.  He seems to enjoy the process, but inevitably rolls over so I can rub his tummy and it all comes to a halt.  Oh well.  I live to serve.

One more day of heat and then a near twenty-degree drop is predicted.  Can't come soon enough for me.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Return Of The Totem

I've always had a 'thing' for lizards without knowing that they were my spirit animal.  Long, long ago when I was a kid, I had a collection of horny toads (not a toad at all, but a unique lizard)...drove my mother nuts.  It wasn't until I moved up here and would sit on the big granite grinding rock in the pasture and the lizards would come to sit on my leg and look me in the eye that I started paying attention and did some research.  The lizard totem has many attributes, one of which is introversion (that'd be me).  They are a big reminder that one is capable of taking charge of one's life, to regenerate, as it were.  Whether because of age, health, whatever, I've had the feeling lately that life was spiraling out of control, and I didn't much like that.  I either needed a swift kick in the tukus or a quick change of attitude.

Because of the virus, any entertaining of guests is done out on the porch now.  There is one chair out there I can see from my perch in the house.  For weeks now a small lizard has come to sit on that chair nearly every day.  I miss him when he doesn't show up.  When Florence and Dan came, I almost had to pick up the little creature so that I could sit down.  How much of a reminder does one need?

My totem has returned to tell me that I am in charge.  I can change.  I can get off my rusty-dusty and do something about my life.  Ta da!  It may seem strange to take advice from a lizard, but I'll take inspiration when it comes.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Good Timing

The deed is done.  The trip to town, that is.  The mowing still awaits (it's like an albatross hovering over my head).  My penchant for procrastination (as well as alliteration) paid off.  After telling myself most of the day to just go and get it over with, we didn't get moving until well into the afternoon.  That turned out to be a good thing.  We were past the time of the blinding strobe-light effect, and it seemed most of the people who had to get to town were already there.  It's such a pleasant drive when there are few to no cars on the road.

At our first stop, Michael was ecstatic.  He visited all of his favorite plants, bushes, and trees.  "Hi!  I'm back!  Did you miss me?"  He danced the Michael hula as he tried to decide which leg to hike.  Flowers sprinkled him with petals.  I plan extra time for these trips, just for him.

On we went for a hit-and-run spree at WallyWorld.  For Michael, it's like stepping into the show ring.  He draws compliments from young, old, and everyone in between, which he takes as his rightful due like royalty.  I didn't buy much, but almost everything was heavy (it is a big-box store, after all).  When I asked for assistance, the cashier waved me down to another section where some young men were waiting.  One actually rushed ahead of the others.  "Oh, what breed is he?"  I stood there like chopped liver as he gushed over Michael.  "He's gorgeous!  I have two dogs.  I just love dogs."  "Let me push the cart for you.  I think there's another dog outside.  You wait while I check."  Our protector came back and gave us the all clear.  I heard all about his dogs on the way to the truck, where he quickly unloaded the cart so he'd have more time to pet and give butt scrubs to Michael.  "Oh, you just made my day!"  No wonder Michael likes to go to town.

Our not-so-quick trip gave us the opportunity to miss all of the getting-off-work traffic and the drive home was every bit as nice and calm as the way in.  A magnolia tree by the road was covered in dinner-plate sized blossoms...beautiful.  Our timing was good for a change and, I'll admit it, not bad at all.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Better Than Good

No, I still haven't gotten round to mowing.  If weather, hot, cold, or windy, wasn't a good enough excuse, yesterday I had a better one. Dave, eldest son, had made noises about coming up on Saturday, but ran into problems with his bike.  (Bike, in my family, refers to motorcycle; not to be confused with bicycle.)  He hadn't mentioned an alternative date, so it was a surprise, and a wonderful one, when he drove up just as I was going out to mow.  No, really I was!

I haven't seen any of my Kids since Christmas and ohmigosh have I missed them.  Because of work, distance, etc., we don't get together often throughout the year, but there are those times when everything comes together and, boy, those are the times I look forward to.  (I know, I know, you English purists, that should be "...to which I look forward."  Deal with it.)    Once in awhile one or the other will come up spontaneously and it's a gift.

Darn this virus!  Dave is a big bear of a man and gives bear hugs like nobody's business, and I didn't get one yesterday.  I couldn't invite him in or fix him a meal, so we sat out on the front porch to talk.  Dave's job keeps him in constant contact with a lot of people and, as he said, he was the worst one to come up and see me for fear of spreading possible contagion, thus the caution.  He did take care of a couple of tasks for me, like moving the big dead branch that had fallen on Truck (no damage, whew!).  As it always does when my Kids visit, time just flew by and Dave needed to get home.

It's the season for the standard warnings:  watch out for deer, the quail baby choo-choos and turkletts, suicidal squirrels, etc.  Those creatures are out in numbers now and could spell disaster for a biker.  Not just motorcycles...I had a friend who hit a deer with her van and it cost $10,000 to get it fixed...the van, not the deer.

It was sad to see Dave go, sans hug, but gosh it was good to see him again.

No mowing again today.  I've put off going to town as long as possible and can't avoid it any more.  Sigh.

Yesterday was better than good.  It was grand!

Stay safe.  Be well.

Tech Support

My daughter called and I was able to ask her advice about my "silent" cellphone.  She has a similar model.  I explained that I had checked all of the internal setting buttons and all was in order.  She asked about the three external side buttons.  ???  I knew they were there, but also knew nothing about them other than I hadn't changed anything.  Well, it seems that somehow I'd inadvertently touched one, the one that turned off sound.  The other two are volume control.  Under her guidance...ta da!  Once again I have clicks, buzzes, and rings.  I'll be careful in the future to keep my pattypaws off those buttons, but now I know how to rectify the situation if I goof up again.  Thank goodness for tech support.

Think I was kidding?  This is the "chubby" part of Michael's fluff.  The much larger chihuahua part was already in the bin.  The salt shaker is just there for perspective...wasn't planning on hot dogs for dinner.

I watched another Julia Child special yesterday.  As all chefs do, taste, taste, taste.  I'd like to think I helped all of my Kids become the excellent cooks they are because, as they were growing up and I was cooking, I'd turn to whichever was around and say, "Taste this and tell me what it needs."  I believe it helped hone their palate.

I also watched a great film for the umpteenth time, "Our Vines Have Tender Grapes" (1945, Margaret O'Brien, Edward G. Robinson, Agnes Moorehead).  The screenplay was written by Dalton Trumbo, he who suffered so at the hands of Joseph McCarthy and the House Un-American Committee in 1947.  It's a gentle tale of farm life in early Wisconsin.  Ms. O'Brien was her usual winsome self, and Mr. Robinson played an unusual role (for him) as her loving father.  There is a wonderful scene in which he takes his daughter to see a circus come through town.  It reminds me so of when my Kids were little.  We couldn't afford to take them to a performance, but did go to meet the train and see all the animals and performers come off and form a parade as they went to the circus grounds.  I wonder if they remember.

It was another chill and windy day.  I hope Michael didn't shed his winter coat too soon.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Another Dog

With the heat of last week, I've really been concerned about Michael's thick coat.  Was I doing the right thing in not having him clipped for summer?  My worries were allayed yesterday when I discovered that Michael and Nature are in charge of the situation.  I brush him regularly, not necessarily for grooming, but to make sure no stickers are stuck in there after our walks.   Michael doesn't deal well with pain.  He may not bark, but let a toenail get caught in his fur and he screams!  I sure didn't want to to let a foxtail burrow in.  I started brushing him yesterday and was shocked to find the slicker brush clogged with fur after just a couple of passes.  He was shedding big time!  By the time I was finished with the chore, I had a chubby chihuahua's worth of fur.  If I'm going to have another dog, at least this one doesn't require feeding.  By Michael's own volition, he has a summer 'do.'

There was a good twenty-degree drop in the temperature yesterday, and I still couldn't mow.  The weather change was due to a much-appreciated strong delta breeze.  I'm a bigger wuss than Michael and couldn't deal with the thought of all that chaff blowing in the wind.  Maybe today.

Between the virus, the murders, and the protests, I struggle to keep my (strong) opinions to myself.  It may be the time, but this is not the place to voice them.  I've got to wean myself from all-day news.  It's breaking my heart.

Stay safe.  Be well.

It's A Plot

It seems that the world, at least the technical world, has taken advantage of the shutdown to update everything.  Aarrgh.  Truck was low on gas and that was a good excuse to take Michael (and me) for a ride in the newly operational A/C.  We get down to Mt. Aukum and what have they done?  They upgraded the gasoline pumps.  The instructions were simple:  remove the nozzle, insert card, push the button and go.  The problem was that I don't use credit cards.  I'm old school.  I write checks.  I went into the store to ask the nice lady, for whom English is a second language, for help.  She came out with me and showed me exactly what the instructions said.  "Yes, but I don't have a credit card."  She looked at me like I'd grown a second head.  She puzzled over that for a minute and finally came up with a solution.  "Is okay now.  I'll fix.  You can pump," and left.  Yeah, well, except that, even following her directions, no gas flowed.  I went back inside for more help.  This time she sent one of the guys out.  He did exactly what I had done and, of course, the blankety-blank thing worked.  I felt the need to look in a mirror and see if I really had grown another head because he gave me the same look she had.  This ain't my first rodeo, kids.  Back in the dawn of time, before there was self-serve, I even pumped gas for a living.  That was before updates.  It's a plot, I tell you.

I have another problem.  My cellphone has lost its voice.  I can do everything I had before, but it will not ring to tell me that I have a call or message coming in, there are no clicks when I push buttons, and it won't even buzz.  I know how to set the system and have checked it multiple times; all is as it should be.  I've turned it off to reset the system.  Nothing.  I've become one of those people who constantly checks their phone, not that I get that many calls or messages, but I'd hate to miss it if one came in.  It's bad when your phone won't talk to you.  It probably needs an update.

We went into full summer mode yesterday:  whole house fan, spray bottle at the ready, ceiling fan whirring, taking walks only when there was shade.  I have to keep telling myself that summer isn't as long as winter and that this, too, shall pass.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Up

What looked like to be another humdrum (mowing) day certainly took an upswing when I got a text from George in the morning saying that I was to receive a visit from Florence and Dan, aka the Dynamic Duo, later in the day.  That quickly put the kibosh on plans to mow.  Even though I was going to mow before the heat rose, I know me and I'd be sound asleep in the chair soon after.  One would think that riding around on Fu Manchu wasn't exercise.  Let me tell you, riding that bucking bull is a workout!  He wasn't named Fu for nothing.

Once again I got hooked on the news, just in time to hear that all four ex-officers are to be charged in the Floyd murder.  I was married to a policeman for twenty years and have nothing but the utmost sincere respect for the profession, but this tragedy took "badge-heavy" beyond the limits.  Now one can hope for justice.

It was one of the hottest days yet and I was grateful for the temporary reprieve.  A nice breeze had sprung up by the time the Duo arrived.  Michael started humming when he recognized his friends' truck and his shorn tail began to wag.  Don't tell me dogs have no memory...they rival elephants in that regard.  To borrow from the Creedence Clearwater Revival song, 1969, I am the 'Fortunate Son,' because Florence and Dan came burdened with bags of goodies from George.  It seems the shopping bug has also bitten Florence.  The piece de resistance was an elevated macaroni-and-cheese casserole George had made, well above the Plain-Jane version I used to make.

We sat on the porch to talk.  How good it is to be with old friends again.  Michael shared his attention, but came back to me.  The boy knows on which side his bread is buttered, but I like to think he knows this is home now.  I traded Florence a couple of flower pots for all the treats.  Believe me, I got the better of that deal.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not one for animated films.  I've never seen "Frozen."  I quit watching them along about the time of "Bambi" (1942) and "Snow White" (from 1937).  I have seen "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" (1989), and loved "Finding Nemo" (2003).  However, "Up" (2009) is my all time favorite, a marvelous film in all regards, and it was the fitting finish to a very up day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Updates

I'm doomed.  Computer did another update this morning.  I have yet to find what hidden booby traps are in store for me there.  Even worse, Blogspot has sent a warning that they are going to update late this month.  Oh goody.  Bear with me then while I work my way through that when it comes.  Why?  Why-y-y? as I shake my fist at the heavens and howl.  Obviously, I don't do well with updates.

On the other hand, it could be that my life could use an update.  I'm pretty much stuck in a do-nothing rut.  I say that, but then again what would I change?  I'm past the age for travel.  I certainly don't need new clothes.  Good grief, I can't remember the last time I traded bibbies for a dress; could have been a couple of years ago.  Arden told me she'd just attended a large, safe-distance party and had such a good time.  (Makes me shudder.)  No, I'll stick with what I have and be glad that I've got it.

Stay safe.  Be well.

So Much For That

I had already removed the cats from my lap in anticipation (maybe that's not the right word)...okay, readiness to go out and mow yesterday when the phone rang.  It turned out to be a rather lengthy conversation and the morning was moving on.  I again displaced the cats whose motto is "If she's sittin', we're fittin'."  Ring ring, or my musical ringtone equivalent, the one that makes Michael sing.  It was the AT&T guy whose appointment for last week I hadn't cancelled.  "I'm in the area and will be there shortly."  This couldn't take long, right?  "Shortly" turned out to be less than ten minutes.  I told him where the box was and left him to do his thing.  Maybe five minutes later he was on the front porch.  I stayed inside, antsy to get on the mower.  Seems there was nothing he could do about my problem; maybe it was the phones.  Oh well.  I thanked him and was ready to say goodbye when he started chatting.  This is a guy who works alone and goes home at night to stay in place.  It was pretty obvious that this man was suffering from isolation.  He started telling story after story.  "Wait, this one will make you laugh," and off he'd go again.  Before he left, he gave me the better part of a can of wasp spray from his truck as he'd noticed a few buzzing around.  That led to another story about rattlesnakes.  I kid you not, that man was here for over forty-five minutes.  The morning was gone.  So much for mowing.

My daughter called.  She has been sewing face masks for herself and Craig and wanted me to know she was sending me a couple.  She said she's made more than fifty, giving them out here and there.  It will be nice not to look like a bandito with a kerchief tied around my face when I go out among 'em.

I gave a passing thought to mowing in the late afternoon, but my incentive, weak at best, was gone.  So much for that.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Ghost Dog

Michael is the strangest dog I've ever known.  I continue to wonder if his characteristics and demeanor are the result of training or his natural personality.  I know he has a voice, but to this day I've never heard him bark.  Yesterday a young, fairly large dog on the loose came to visit.  He came right up to the screen door.  Michael didn't sound the alarm.  The two dogs were nose to nose through the screen.  He never barks when a truck or car drives up.  He's interested, but that's about it.  He moves through the house like a wraith.  He can be lying right beside me and I never hear him leave.  Sometimes he'll shake his head and rattle his tags in another room and that's the only way I know he's gone.  He even walks quietly, almost stealthily.  I feel like I've been given a gold star if I get a little kissy on my hand.  That's about as enthusiastic as he gets.  I'm not complaining, believe me.  It's just that he is so different that it's noteworthy.  PS:  Michael darn near dehydrated himself on our walks as he re-marked his territory.

Today is absolutely the day.  Today I will mow, before the weather window slams shut.  Yesterday I got caught up in the news of the protests and riots...and there is a difference.  I understand and sympathize with the one, but will never comprehend the other.  These are strange, frightening times we're living in now.

Stay safe.  Be well.