Wishing

Wishing Won't Make It So, Phil Everly, 2004

I wish Farview Farm were more farmlike these days for a lot of reasons.  The land and I were both more productive and what I had to write about was more in tune with my mission statement.  So many of the animals were still around.  Poppy the sheep, good old duppty-dup, was still hanging out with the goats, of which there were many then.  Watching goat kids being born was wondrous.  Chickens like Tattletale Tessie and Pick Me Up Peggy filled the pen.  The garden really was a bountiful garden.  Just watering the vegetables took over an hour a day, and the table was filled.  Did you know that if you scratch a name into a young pumpkin or melon, it will stretch as the melon grows and proclaim its namesake?  I would take a chicken with me into the fenced area to feast on tomato worms and other juicy tidbits, as well as for company.  I had enough flowers to feed the deer and bring an influx of butterflies in season.  I would spend hours on Fu Manchu, tootling around the yards and fields in the sunshine.  I think Dude is going to take over that pleasant chore now.  The house was filled with guests for whom I could cook two meals a day, breakfast and dinner.  They were on their own for lunch.  All my many recipes and cookbooks got put to good use.  Death, attrition, age...and Covid have put an end to all that.

Ah well, wish as I might, the big picture isn't going to change.  The status quo is what it is, but I am so very thankful I have such wonderful, wonderful memories.

Stay safe.  Be well.

All For The Better

Dude is a dynamo.  I'm in awe of what he can get done in the shortest amount of time.  Admittedly, I move at a snail's pace these days, but the guy is a whirling dervish and he does a good job.  Yesterday he took out the offending scrub brush down by the road and cut up the fallen oak branches in the front yard.  He turned the big stuff into firewood and stacked it and, it being a Burn Day, burned all of the leafy, twiggy stuff.  Burn Days are taken very seriously up here and there are penalties involved, not counting the fire danger, if the rules are ignored.  There were some smaller chores, too, but the one that pleasures me the most is the front walkway from the driveway to the house.  When we moved in, the walkway was wide enough to back a pickup truck all the way to the porch...sure made the move-in easier.  Over time, the herb garden jumped its boundaries and the junipers grew out of control and the walkway was reduced to a narrow path, not nearly as welcoming.  Dude cleared both sides so that it is now as it once was.  It may not be significant in the grand scheme of things, but it makes me happy.

Had a good conversation with eldest son Dave while he was doing prep work in the kitchen.  He had invited his Club for dinner and was making chicken noodle soup for fifteen!  Those days are far behind in the rearview mirror for me, but I can appreciate his efforts.  All my Kids are good cooks, I'm pleased to say.

I looked around yesterday, really looked, and realized that all the hyperactive spiders had turned the house into a replica of Miss Havisham's mansion (Charles Dickens, Great Expectations, 1861).  Well, not a mansion here, just festooned and draped in cobwebs.  That's top of the list today.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Starry Starry Night

Actually, right now it is the opposite from the opening line of Don McLean's song "Vincent" (1971).  The skies have been so clear, day and night, and we're a night or two away from a full moon.  The moon is so bright that it has washed away any starlight twinkle.  It takes a dark 'o the moon to let the stars shine.  Michael likes it just the way it is now because it has expanded his nighttime excursions.  As I've said, I will only walk as far as I can see.  It's a pretty good indicator when the moonlight leaves shadows ("Moonshadow," Cat Stevens, 1970).

Dude is coming today and there's plenty for him to do.  Two large branches broke and fell from the oak over the woodpile and they need to be limbed and the rest cut up.  There are scrub brushes down by the road blocking the view of the road when pulling out of the driveway that need to be removed for safety.  There are junipers in front of the house that are in desperate need of a major trim.  A hedge has gone all higgledy-piggledy and could use attention.  The list goes on and on.  Dude and I have a deal.  He fits me into his schedule and does whatever he can in the time he has available.  There's rarely any hurry with any of this stuff, and I'm job security when his other workload gets slow.  Hey, it works for me.

He comes early and it's only polite to be up and dressed when he gets here.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Who's In Charge?

In this house, it's more like Walt Whitman's plea in "Oh Captain!  My Captain!" (1865) than William Ernest Henley's line in "Invictus" (1875), "I am the captain of my ship," because I am most definitely the one taking orders here and it would be delusional to think otherwise.  I am not the captain.  I am not in charge.

"My food bowl is empty (or nearly empty).  Fill it!"  "I wish to go to sleep.  Open the cat cave.  Now!"  "You think you're going to get up?  Not so fast, lady.  It's our naptime on your lap.  Sit still."  "You have only two more bites of dinner?  I don't care.  I want to go out for a walk!" (this is always accompanied by the intense stare and tapping foot for emphasis).  "It's treat time!"

No, I am not in charge.  My captains do give rewards, soft purring, rub-ups, or a gentle lick on the hand to let me know my services are appreciated.  It's enough.  I yield.

Stay safe.  Be well.

It's All Good

I had the greatest conversation yesterday with my fifth Kid, Clay.  It was almost as good (almost) as an in-person visit.  Lots of laughter, exchange of ideas, etc.  I told him about an incident that had happened on my last trip to Walmart and he suggested I share it.  Here goes.  Done with shopping, Michael having said farewell to his favorite bushes, purchases loaded, I went to get into the truck.  Uh huh.  The idiot next to me had parked in such a way that I could not get the driver's side door open enough to squeeze in, try as I might.  As I was pondering this problem, a gentleman who had seen my dilemma came up and asked if he could help.  "Yes, please!"  Turned out he wasn't able to get in, either.  He suggested I try getting in the passenger side and sliding across.  It was a good idea, but it didn't take into account the height of the truck nor the weakness in my legs.  It was a no-go.  (I normally use the steering wheel as an aid.)  All this was taking the man's time, and I'm sure he wanted to get into the store as much as I wanted to go home.  With my permission, Nice Man offered to climb in and back the truck out.  It was either that or spend the night at Walmart, so of course I said yes.  He did so, waited to make sure I could get in, and left with my profound gratitude.  There are some really nice people in the world.

I'm slowly getting back into my websites, my passwords having been wiped out by the big Computer Tsunami.  What a pain in the patoot!

The weather has turned for the good and we've had beautiful days.  Michael now suggests we go out to sit in the sun twice a day.  I'm okay with that.  I know we will need more rain, but I'll take what we get when we get it.

I highly recommend the PBS production of "All Things Bright And Beautiful."  The James Herriot books were grand, and the TV show follows suit.  Nice people doing nice things, lovely scenery, most of the drama centered around animals...a relief from the news of the day.

It's all good.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Changing Times

Last year, the year of 'I Don't Care,' I didn't bring info from the previous calendar forward to 2020 and, as a consequence, missed some birthdays and anniversaries.  Yesterday I found an old calendar and did the transfer.  It was like opening a time capsule of the way things used to be.  "The Kids were up" (that's my favorite), Camille and Arden were here for dinner (a frequent occasion), the Helper Dude of the day came often and the place was looking pretty good, Dave's motorcycle club was here for a volunteer work day and I got to cook for them.  Nothing momentous in the grand scheme, but there were people coming and going all the time, and all that information was right there on the old calendar.

Last year the Kids were up twice (in two batches), didn't see Camille or Arden at all, and Dude and I keep a safe distance and wear masks when he comes to my aid.

It will be interesting to see what changes will come this year and what the 'new normal' will be.  Fingers crossed.  And I'll try harder on the birthdays.

Stay safe.  Be well.

A Puzzlement

 (Song from The King And I, Yul Brynner, Deborah Kerr, 1956)

Why is it that minutes drag and years fly (not 2020, it seemed that year would never end), hours drag and days fly?  You bring a newborn baby home from the hospital, blink your eyes, and that kid is in his 60s.  You go to bed at age 40 and wake up at 80.  By the time I get organized for the day, the sun is going down.

Yes, yes, I know.  There are 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day.  Yeah, well, it doesn't work that way in real life.  Waiting five minutes for an event can take for-ev-er and the clock has nothing to do with that.

As Yul sang, it's a puzzlement.  All my good intentions to get this entry written early were for naught.  I don't know where the time went.

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Edge

 So close.  I'm getting so close to the edge.  Yesterday was really lovely and I took a photo in the morning of a robin's-egg blue sky with big, white puffy clouds to share.  Yeah, well.  The phone sent the photo to a place from which I cannot share.  Sorry 'bout that, you would have liked it.

I backed away from the computer entirely and took a mental health day.  Good thing, because this morning it wants me to do something else weird and I don't want to play.

Michael and I did get to sit outside for a bit in the afternoon, but not too long because the breeze (wind) was so chill.  We did get outside, and that's healthy for both of us.

Camille called.  She's doing well and even driving again.  Her broken hip, hip replacement, and broken hand were/are a real setback for someone so active.  She's the racehorse and I'm the old grey mare, but right now we're trotting along at about the same speed...mine.

Looks like it's going to be another beautiful day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Up From The Depths

I have spent two days in Hades with Beelzebub at the helm.  On Wednesday, after doing all my normal morning computer stuff, the computer announced it was going to do a lengthy upgrade (how I hate, loathe, and detest that word!) and not to turn off until it was done.  Okay, I was finished anyhow, no big deal.

There were problems, however, on Thursday.  It was one of those 'you can't get there from here' situations.  My Home Page didn't come up and nothing else was the same.  I called Technical Support and the knowledgeable-sounding young man took the controls.  "Okay, I can fix this, that, and the other thing."  "Oh, you don't need this.  You don't need that," and stuff started disappearing.  What do I know?  If a pro tells you that you don't need something, you believe.

After an hour with Vlad (no, really), I had to get ready to go to town.  I made my appointment for the Covid vaccination with minutes to spare.  I am so naive.  I turned the corner to the hospital and found myself in a line of maybe a hundred cars, with more piling up behind me.  It took the better part of an hour to creep up to the injection station.  Thankfully, I had a full tank of gas.  I will say that the welcoming committee, when I got that far, was very friendly and efficient.  I'll admit I wasn't looking forward to the shot.  I was prepared with sleeve rolled up, etc.  The nursie person stepped up and touched my arm, and put a bandaid on.  "That's it?  Did you give me the shot?"  "Yes, we're done."  "Dang, girl, you're good!"  She smiled, waved her hand at the oncoming line of cars, and said, "Lots of practice."  At any rate, the rest of my stops and shopping went like clockwork and we were home before dark.  I've had no problems with the injection site at all.

It wasn't until yesterday that I found out that Vlad had dropped me into the Ninth Circle of Hell.   Nearly five hours on the phone with Prashand and the computer is seminormal.  There's still more tweaking to do, but I'm not ready to face that just yet.  Font size is a problem, so I have no idea how this entry will look.  Stay tuned.

Had a good, gentle rain last night with no wind, and the sun is just now coming out from behind the clouds.  It's going to be a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well. 

Not Today

Check back tomorrow.  Today was spent in computer hell.  (You don't want to know!)

Progress...slowly

The new phone and I aren't 'besties' yet, but we are at least becoming friends.  I still find double-tapping a challenge.  Remember, I come from the era of phones with dials, so I think I'm doing pretty good.

Even though the breeze was chill, the sun was out and Michael headed straight for the deck around noontime.  I'm his willing follower.  He picks his favorite spot by my chair, lies down, and we wallow in the warmth (I never did light a fire).  When he's had enough time in the oven, he gets up and we head back into the house.  I don't know what Michael's thinking as he semidozes, but I enjoy hearing the birds and watching the clouds.  It's a nice break in the day.

Not particularly looking forward to today...at least five stops in town, including getting the Covid vaccination, but some things are unavoidable.  Sigh.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Upgrade

Well, I'm not quite halfway through the iPhones For Senior Dummies, and I thought a computer upgrade was less than a walk in the park.  In the first place, this isn't a telephone, it is a computer!  What this thing can do...right there in your hand...wow.  No buttons, no clicks...it's swipe up, down, sideways.  Pinch with two fingers to minimize or expand.  It uses face recognition to turn on.  I feel like I'm coming out of the Dark Ages.  Part of the problem yesterday was that Ralph kept insisting that he would sit on the book in my lap, making my education even more difficult.  I shall overcome.

I slept really late this morning, probably from mental overload.  The frost is so thick outside, my world shines and sparkles in the sunlight like a diamond.  The phone (going to have to give it a name) tells me it's 34 degrees.  It's pretty like you wouldn't believe, but it may be a day to light a fire, sunlight or no.

This photo was taken after the last rain.  In my mind, I hear that line from 'Casablanca' (1942, Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henreid), "Here's looking at you, kid."  The face is always there, but the rain pattern added a body.

Things to do, but thankfully no places to go until tomorrow.

Stay safe.  Be well.

WOW!!

It wasn't just a good day, it was a grand day!  Deb and Craig arrived bearing yakisoba and the new iPhone.  There were trials and tribulations in getting info from the old phone to the new one.  I'm now somewhere out there in a 'cloud.'  (Usually I'm lost in one.)  Because Deb had gotten the same iPhone at the time they got mine, all the waiting and being transferred again and again was frustrating, but no surprise.  For me, who sat there like a bump on a log while listening to all their technospeak, the time was pure gold.  This was the third time since Christmas 2019 that I've had the opportunity to really talk to the Kids and spend some time together...pure gold (and the phone ain't bad, either).

Michael was more demonstrative than usual.  I think he really likes company...probably bored with me...and Craig even took him for his afternoon walk for some bonding guy time.  Ralph loves company, and made an absolute pest of himself, knocking boxes off the table, head butting everyone, demanding to be petted and included in everything.  Celeste did not put in an appearance until she heard Craig's truck drive off and the last 'Love yous' were said.

I had a chance later to talk to Tinka, who was full of her own good news.  It was a joyful conversation.

I spent the evening playing with my new toy.  Boy, technology moved on while I wasn't watching and there's a lot to learn.  Fortunately, the Kids thought ahead and brought one of those Help For Dummies books.  I was a little taken aback when the title also included the words 'For Seniors,' but what's true is true.

There's one little hitch in the gitalong, but I think I can overcome it, maybe with the book, maybe with some phone calls.  I am not discouraged.

I have an appointment for an antiCovid shot on Thursday.  Under the circumstances, my one concern was that I couldn't take Michael on that trip, but found out I wouldn't have to leave the truck, so my boy gets to be the consoler in charge.

Wow! is the one word that fits the bill for the day.  It was grand!

Stay safe.  Be well.

Okay, Shorty

Short walks, short trip to Gray's Corner, short time left to get anything done yesterday, and a short entry today because the Kids are coming up 'early,' which could mean any time after sunrise.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Mind Games

Sometimes I think that Nature and the world at large have gone topsy-turvy and I struggle to keep up.  The rain storm of yesterday's morning promised to last all day.  Well, the rain and wind stopped, the sun came out and it turned out to be a lovely day.  Okay, I could deal with that better than what was on TV.

Having watched the impeachment trial from the beginning, it was in for a penny, in for a pound, and I had to watch to the end for the verdict and losing another day for cleaning.  The constant refrain in my life is, "I don't understand," and it played loud, long, and clear yesterday.  Over the past year I've become obsessed with politics.  Me, who, other than hopefully educated voting, never gave the political scene more than a passing glance.  To paraphrase Sidney Lumet's line in "Network" (1976), politics has made me 'crazy as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore.'  I remain hopeful that we, as a nation, can regain some semblance of normalcy soon.

Until then, I'm going to go on walks with Michael, watch old, beloved reruns, and make a cat cave at night for Ralph and the bent-knees snuggle space for Celeste.

Looks like we're going to get a real sunrise this morning.  It's going to be a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Ongoing

Our late-afternoon walk was a portent of what was to come.  At least we had a short break between rain storms.  Boy, it's pouring out there this morning!

Despite good intentions, I once again fell victim to the TV and watching the trial yesterday.  This is, hopefully, a once-in-a-lifetime event that I find compelling.  I now fully understand my mother's total fascination with the McCarthy Communism hearings in 1954, again with the main player creating fear of retaliation as his argument for compliance.  Wearing a different face, it seems that history can repeat itself.

It's getting light, but there will be no sunrise this morning.  Our walks will be short and wet today.  If I can follow through on my vow not to turn on the television this morning, I might actually get something done.  Or not.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Drat!  I got the photo where I wanted, but cannot justify the text.  Sigh. 

Walkin' In The Rain

Actually, Michael and I lucked out yesterday.  His timing was perfection.  We did go out (not to sit in the sun!) and every time we walked it was only misting.  We can handle that.  A doozy of a storm blew in after dark...big wind and pouring rain.  The sun is out this morning and it's going to be a great day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Caught

Michael wasn't acting himself yesterday.  Oh, we'd gone for our morning walk and had even had our sunbath (boy, did that feel good!), but then he curled up on the loveseat and stayed there.  Between the couches, dog beds, the blanket that he rearranges daily, and counting the plain floor, Michael has seven spots to nap or rest in the living room, and he usually moves from one to the other throughout the day.  Yesterday he got up on the loveseat and stayed there.  I thought perhaps he didn't feel well.  Later on he started to make small noises.  It's hard to describe Michael's vocalization.  It's not a bark, not a whine, and certainly not the high-pitched scream he yells when he has a pain, but...well, you'd have to hear it because I don't have a reference.  He did start periodically making his sound, and still hadn't moved by early afternoon.  Then he would periodically lift a hind leg as if to scratch his ear and would say something.  I checked his leg and even checked his ear, but could find nothing.  I started thinking about a run to the vet.  I did have to go to Mt. Aukum, one of Michael's favorite places.  I got his leash, thinking he'd surely get up for that, but no.  With some urging, I got him off the couch...and the mystery was solved.  He'd gotten a forepaw nail caught in a crocheted afghan throw and didn't want to move.  Michael does not tolerate pain, period.  His leg(s) and ears were fine and we made the trip to the feed store without incident.  I'm sure he wondered why it had taken me to long to solve his dilemma.  Me, too.

Even with housework looming, I got caught myself yesterday while watching the second day of trial.  Like Michael, I couldn't move.  The terror, heroism, and mob mentality were unimaginable.  Even though I had seen the riot as it happened on January 6th, the minute-by-minute filming of the Capitol, inside and out, was riveting.  This must never be allowed to happen again.

Today the TV goes on DVR.  Dusting awaits.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Papa

Waiting for the coffeemaker to do its thing this morning, I was going over the plan for the day.  I had put it off as long as possible, but was almost out of a critical item that might mean a trip to town.  No, wait.  I could get that at Mt. Aukum!  Mt. Aukum is a whole lot closer with a lot less people.  I'm not agoraphobic.  I like people, I just don't like to leave home.  Contemplating this, I got to thinking about my maternal grandfather, Papa.

Maybe reclusivity is a hereditary trait.  I never knew his wife, the grandmother for whom I was named, as she died before I was born.  After her death, Papa lived for years as a hermit in the deserts of California before, for whatever reason, he came back to live with my Aunt Hilda.  That must have been hard for him, and probably not easy for my aunt and uncle.  I don't remember talking much with Papa, but he loaned me Western paperbacks...Zane Grey, Louis L'Amour, and Will James are among the writers I remember.  He also let me borrow from his extensive collection of National Geographic magazines.  I doubt my mother knew that National Geo at the time was an introduction to naked male and female anatomy from photos taken of aboriginal tribes around the world.  Hey, a girl's gotta learn sometime.  Papa chewed tobacco and there was always a spit can (coffee can) by his side and his grizzled chin was stained.  Must have driven my fastidious aunt nuts.  While I remember him as a taciturn man, I do recall one story about his time in the desert.  A stranger showed up at Papa's shanty in the middle of nowhere and spent a few nights.  After the man left, the police came, hunting for the escaped murderer.

I was a quiet child, and maybe that's why Papa put up with me.  I do remember playing store with him.  We took turns being the shopkeeper, buying and selling cans of this and that.  At least I learned to make change at an early age.

Okay!  Screeching halt in the reminiscing here.  I just got a call from Deb, and they and my new phone will arrive on Monday.  Since no one has been in my house since the pandemic started...and it shows...I have only a few days to pretend I've kept up with housework.  Gotta go!

Stay safe.  Be well.

Listen To Me

"It's time to go to bed.  Really.  Do it now."  I tell myself that every night.  "Well, maybe I will just as soon as this program is over."  "I'll get up just as soon as the cats get off my lap."  I talk to myself a lot.  The problem is that I don't always listen.  For two nights in a row, just closing my eyes for a minute has resulted in an all-nighter in the chair.  Michael must think I've slipped a cog.  The cats don't care.  Waking up fully dressed certainly speeds up the morning routine.

Nature pulled a switcheroo yesterday.  After that welcome warm sunshine of the day before, the sky was overcast and gloomy all day.  We did go out in the afternoon to sit on the picnic bench under the oak, but we didn't stay long.  Crows seem to be the bird of the day, and there were more than twenty of the loudmouths in the trees.  They simply do not have a volume-control knob.

Speaking of birds.  A couple of days ago a full-size Steller's jay banged into the picture window in the living room.  It's not the first time a bird has hit the glass, but it's usually a hummer or a sparrow.  I rush out and, if I and the bird are lucky, I can hold it or put it in the sunshine to get its wits back and warm up after the shock.  Most of them make it.  The jay was not so fortunate and had broken its neck, poor thing.  Poor me, too.  The jay had hit the double-pane window with such force that it seems to have also broken the seal.  Moisture has begun to collect between the glass, and that's just not acceptable.  I spend a lot of time looking out of that window.  I guess my next chore will be to find a glazier who will come out here to the boonies.  If I'm lucky, maybe that person will also be able to replace the screens that Missy destroyed.

Michael is making up for lost time, snoozing behind me on the bed.  He has better sense than I.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Monotony

Some days it just lands like a ton of bricks.  Monotony is a drag.  Whether due to age, retirement, Covid, weather...you name it, there's not much new coming down the pike on any given day.  No wonder I'm jazzed about getting a new phone, a change for a change, something different to stimulate the brain cells.  Oh, there are things I could do to keep busy, things like dusting or weeding, but they're things I've done a thousand times before.  I like the end result, but right now it doesn't seem worth the effort.  The thought of company would spur me to action, but that's a no-go given the circumstances.  Even if, all I'd have to do would be to sweep the porch.  Oh well, this, too, shall pass.

Speaking of the porch, that was Michael's choice yesterday, and it was grand.  Even on the sunny days of late, the chill breeze made a jacket obligatory and we didn't stay out long.  Yesterday we baked until well done, enjoying the heat and bird song.  Michael dozed off and on, and I just soaked it in.  He gets to call the shots on our outings...where we go and how long we stay.  Like me, a fella's got to have some control in his life.

Well, let's see what today will bring.

Stay safe.  Be well.

I Erred

I've been comparing my recent haircut to that of Dame Judi Dench.  Watching 'As Time Goes By' yesterday, I realized I was wrong.  Except for the cowlick, I was also wrong when I said I had a Dennis the Menace cut.  Oh, short over the ears and at the nape, yes, but there the similarities end.  Judi and Dennis are absolute Rapunzels next to me.  I know I asked for a short cut, and I got it.  At the crown the hair might be as long as an inch, maybe a half-inch everywhere else.  I'm not complaining, just saying my comparisons were in error.  I'll be ready for a trim in, oh, say six months.

Michael doesn't make mistakes, and his timing is unerring.  His suggestion that we go out to deck or porch is at the warmest part of the day, and I am happy to accompany him.  We sit together until he signals it's time to go back in the house.  These are not piddle trips, his mission is clear and he's not to be diverted.

What's up with the pedestrian vultures?  Yesterday there were seventeen on the ground in the front yard.  They took off for posts around the pen as we approached, but what were they doing on the ground, just clustered in the sunshine, in the first place.  They did not have wings spread to warm as they do on the posts.  It was more like they were holding a committee meeting.  The things I wish I knew.

I think it's going to be another gorgeous day, but rain is predicted in our future.  Michael and I will get our deck time in while we can.

Stay safe.  Be well.

It's All About...

Right now, my life is consumed with the purchase of and changes to my cellphone.  I am so grateful to my daughter Deb who is doing all of the research, etc.  I'd be lost in Never-Never Technology Land without her.  It's a little more difficult because of the virus and this all happens long distance.  We spent an hour this morning going over the this's and that's and other details.

I may have to change the title of the blog...maybe "It's All About Michael."  I'm a dud and he's the personality in the house, up to and including the fact that he received a package from UPS yesterday.  The gentleman jumped out of his truck and I said that I hadn't ordered anything.  He looked at the package and said, "It's for Michael."  It took me a second, thinking that nobody named Michael lived here, but then looked down and realized there was.  The guy got his laugh for the day when I told him that Michael was the dog.  His Auntie Florence had sent a container of Snout Sooth for Michael's crusty nose.  I don't know how excited he'll be when I try to apply it, but we'll work it out.

Since I've shot the morning, I've got to get going here.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Spiffy

Michael doesn't shed hair like any other dog I've had.  He sometimes drops a puff here or there, easy to see and pick up.  It wasn't until last summer that I really brushed him out, and then he donned his thick winter coat and I thought brushing was just a once-a-year job.  I've always kept a slicker brush by my chair for any passing cat or dog of the day, but wasn't too concerned about Michael.  The other day I noticed he was looking a little scruffy and picked up the brush.  Holy cow!  Working steadily, I got enough loose fur to create a chihuahua!  Brush brush, clean the brush and repeat.  It seems I'm always apologizing to this dog for some wrongdoing or lack of doing, not for lack of caring, but for ignorance of his breed or training.  By the way, he looks pretty spiffy now.

The huge ball of brushed fur made me wish I still spun.  Once upon a time I bought sheep's fleece or any other material that I could spin into yarn and knit or crochet into socks or caps, etc.  My friend Florence brought me a bag or two of fur from her Scottish deer hounds (they're shedders) and I made her a cap.  Because their hair is coarse, I trimmed around the face with sheep's wool.  A cap from Michael's fur would be soft as a cloud.  The wheel has been sitting in the living room gathering dust for years now, but it's a nice thought.

Michael isn't the only one in the family to look a little unkempt.  Probably because it's been so cold and I've worn a stocking cap daily, with my ultra-short haircut, I've developed a cowlick. I had to go grocery shopping yesterday and bore an amazing resemblance to Dennis the Menace and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.  I hope other shoppers put it down to age and eccentricity.  I was at the one store where Michael cannot go, so at least I didn't suffer from comparison.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Night Song

Tucked in bed, lights out, TV off...one would think the song would be "Silent Night."  Not s'much.  The freezer in the laundry room next door comes in with a low hum while the musicians tune up.  Michael has had lifelong breathing issues and takes the lead.  He may, in turn, burble, sniff, wheeze or snore.  I almost worry when I can't hear him.  Ralph, curled up next to me in the cat cave, has never purred...he snorks when he's happy.  He's happy in the cat cave and though he's muffled by the blankets, he's the rhythm section.  Any vocals are provided by a hunting owl.  The Children of the Night, the coyotes, seem to have moved out of our area entirely.  I can't remember when I last heard their wild chorus.  The tiny peeper frogs that once were so abundant and loud are also gone.  Celeste is the audience, silent in her admiration for the performance.  Me?  I guess if I join the chorale, it must come after sleep arrives.  There were rumors in the past that I snore.  Well, maybe more than rumors when it was suggested that nose strips might be useful for a quiet night.  If I do now, I'd be the lead because I'm bigger and would be louder, like that lady in the choir years ago who sang with gusto and off key.  Nope, Silent Night it ain't.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Priorities

This entry is late and getting short shrift.  I received a before-dawn call from Deb (we're both early risers) to discuss the laptop situation.  After finding out why I thought I needed one (for power outages) I found out it wouldn't work as I'd hoped.  Problem solved.  Now we'll be talking about an updated cellphone.  Stay tuned.  Burning daylight and time to get a move on.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Moving Ahead

If you're looking for me, you'll find me in the Sea of Confusion.  For some time now I've been thinking of getting a laptop computer, mainly because they are rechargeable and, if I were to keep it charged, it would keep me in touch with the world during one of our many power outages.  (I can recharge my phone in the truck.)  I mentioned this to my daughter and she immediately put the family shopper (Craig) on the trail.  She called with some information this morning.

I am not computer illiterate.  Way, way back in the day when I was going into my last semester for an A.A. degree, they changed the requirements for graduation to include a class in computer science.  What to do but sign up for the class.  This was at the time when the computer was the size of a large kitchen counter and used punch cards (does anybody now even know what a punch card is?).  Over time, I acquired a massive home computer that was essentially a word processor (the internet was a gleam in someone's brain) and taught myself how to use it.  One of my last jobs out in the world ended up being in charge of the computer system for the entire company with 17 interconnected offices.  I even had to learn to write code.

My problem is this...time and computers have moved on (blink of an eye these days) and I have not.  Deb could have been speaking a foreign language as she told me about the newest and the best.  Duh.  Some things filtered through:  will the laptop communicate with my PC?  No.  Will it do...?  No.  I may have to rethink this.  I simply thought the laptop would be an adjunct, not a lifestyle.

I also mentioned that I thought I might need to upgrade my out-of-date iPhone.  That's a story for another day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Touch Of Humor

Michael, without a funny bone in his body, cracks me up.  It's just possible that I made some mistakes when he came here to live, as in giving him a treat when we came in from a nice walk.  One nice treat from the kitchen was followed by two of the tiny milk bones in my pocket.  Two...always two, and he knows and accepts the signal for "all gone."  This is now an everyday occurrence.  Then two bones as an appetizer before he goes in for his kibble, and two bones for dessert.  Don't tell me a dog can't communicate.  Ever sedate, he lies down by his bowl to eat one crunchy at a time.  I've never seen a dog do that ever.  He has added to our daily routine in that we now, at Michael's appointed hour, go out to sit in the sunshine.  Usually it's to the end of the deck, but yesterday the porch was his destination.  I've tried explaining that rain or summer sun will put an end to this, but he said we'll deal with that when it happens.

Michael doesn't bark, he doesn't whine.  He makes me laugh.

Stay safe.  Be well.