Holding My Breath

Good old Truck.  Good old reliable Truck.   At twenty-three years old, things can get iffy and I had to take him in for a smog check.  'Please let him pass.  Please let him pass.' kept going through my mind.  Finally the nice man came back into the office, sat down, didn't say anything at first and then, "It's done.  You're all good,"  Whew! and I could breathe again.  Even  the man said he'd been worried.  We high-tailed it out of there like they could change their mind.

Later at home, Michael and I were just sitting, trying to cope with the heat, when he lifted his head.  That's about all he does to show interest.  I followed his gaze and there was a buck grazing on the marjoram in the front garden.  Not just any buck, this boy had a four-point, three foot tall rack.  I mean big!  You don't see something like that every day and it literally had me holding my breath.  Wow!

I'd call it a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

How Dey Doo Dat?

The most amazing thing is happening.  I'll switch to a program I want to watch and a notice from my network provider will come on asking if I'd like to skip commercials.  Would I like to skip commercials, the bane of my life?  You betcha!  And it works!  How in the world do they do that?  It doesn't come up every time, so I don't know what the criteria are, but I'm all for it when it does.  Ain't technology grand?

Stay safe.  Be well.

Count Me In

I admit it.  When Michael came here to live, I unabashedly tried to to buy his affection.  It was milk-bone biscuits for any and all occasions.  Go outside, go potty, come back in and get a 'good boy' treat; in fact, get two.  Go for a ride in Truck, get two treats...always two.  It started with some medium size bones left over from Bessie Anne, but then I realized Michael was getting perhaps more treats per day than were good for him.  However, by then the precedent had been set and we all know how Michael thrives on routine.  Okay, we went to a smaller biscuit, two at a time.  He crunches up one, and then stands, glancing at the pocket where treats are kept, waiting for number two.  Any hesitation on my part and I get The Look. Okay, fine...and I produce the second.  Michael is happy and goes on about his business.  We're down to mini-mini size milk-bones now.  It isn't the size, it's the number.  Don't tell me dogs can't count.  And Michael is such a good boy.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Rambling

There have been times in my life when things became so overwhelming that I figuratively pulled the covers over my head and 'dropped out' for awhile.  The Vietnam War was one of those times.  I read and watched everything in the news until I couldn't stand it.  I couldn't do anything about it so I quit watching, reading, and listening and devoted my energies to my family and friends.

When the pandemic began, I watched in horror as the death toll rose...and rose...and rose.  Seeing refrigerated trucks outside of overfllled hospital morgues brought me to tears.  I'm aware we are experiencing another surge, but I don't keep a daily tally now.  I can't.

January Sixth was a day of infamy, something out of a political nightmare.  I was glued to the television for hours every day, trying to make sense of the mayhem brought by Americans against their own.  I couldn't.  I still can't.  Now I stick to local news once a day in the morning, period.

I'm learning to cope with the changes in my life that age and illness have wrought.  It seems the only thing I'm responsible for now is my attitude.  It needs a major overhaul, and I'm working on it.

Michael is snoring in the doorway, Celeste is off somewhere crooning to her piggies, and Ralph is lightly patting my shoulder for attention.  All's right in my world.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Pause

I'm dealing with some health issues that are of no interest, and not much is happening at Farview Farm right now, anyhow.  I am taking a break from writing on a regular basis, but if anything good happens, you'll be the first to know.  In the meantime...

Stay safe.  Be well

Different

Michael is...come on, go with me here...a horse of a different color.  I've had any number of dogs in my lifetime.  All good, well-behaved dogs, each with a distinct personality.  Michael is in a class all his own, and living with him has taken some getting used to.  I don't know if it is the  training he received to be come an ESA (Emotional Support Animal) or his own reserved nature.  He seems to have no interest in anything but me.  Oh, he'll lift his head at a new sound or a car driving up, but that's it.  He seems perfectly happy to walk at my slow pace, and never, ever pulls on the leash.  If I've had to leave home without him (which I try not to do), he doesn't rush to greet me on my return.  "Oh, you''re back," and goes back to sleep.  He likes people, walking like royalty among his subjects, but doesn't seem to require the attention.  When I get a small lick on the hand, I feel like I've been given the Academy Award, and my heart swells when he comes for a butt scrub or a head rub...it's not often.

Michael came to me at exactly the right time in my life.  I didn't think I wanted or needed another dog.  I hope I fill whatever needs he has, as he has mine.  We're a good pair.  We're just different.

I'm happy to say that this morning is much cooler.  We're oh so ready for a break.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Wicked

After a week of soaring temperatures, I have a lot in common with the Wicked Witch of the West (besides attitude), in that "I'm melting!"  This sustained high heat really takes the starch out of a gal.  The spray bottle and ceiling fan have been my lifelines, and I am ever so grateful that we've retained power.  Nothing has gotten done, and I mean nothing.  Were it not for Michael, I'd probably have never left my chair.  I do take him out in the afternoon to try to cool him off with cool water from the hose.  The cats spend the day downstairs where it's a bit cooler, only coming up after dark.  It's been wicked.

Nothing happening, nothing to write about.

Stay safe.  Stay cool.  Be well.

I Need A Keeper

Evidently I need a keeper, and Ralph has assigned himself in Charge of Sleep.   In addition to his duties as Nighttime Cuddler and Reveille Caller, he now has the added responsibility of determining when it's time to go to bed.  His internal clock is better than mine.  And how does he make the bedtime announcement?  At the self-determined hour, he jumps up on my lap and proceeds to march back and forth across my legs until I'm driven to distraction.  "Alright, alright!  We'll go to bed!"  Satisfied that he's done his duty, he then leads our small parade down the hall to the bedroom.  Go figure.  Ralph keeps me in line...and laughing.

I had nightmares about going to the lab yesterday after the debacle with the firetrucks, etc., last time, but one does what one must.  This visit went off without a hitch, and riding in the air-conditioned truck was a respite from this gawdawful heat.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Whole Lotta Shakin'

 Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On, Jerry Lee Lewis, 1957.

Michael and I were sitting on the porch at 3:50 yesterday afternoon when we felt it.  The house groaned and shook and I could hear glassware tinkling inside.  Michael just lifted his head.  Yup, that's an earthquake.  Down in the valley they were not uncommon, but pretty rare up here.  I waited, but didn't feel any aftershocks.  Then I got a text from my friend in Fiddletown who said she thought her propane tank had exploded.  She's south of me and, according to the news, the quake was felt more farther to the south.  A little later, Deb called, saying she felt it down in Woodland, over seventy miles away.  Holy Toledo, it was a big one.  Watching the news, they said there were at least forty 'shifts' in the earth over in Nevada!  From the last I heard, there have been no fatalities and little damage other than rock slides on the roads.  Californians take quakes pretty much in stride, but outlanders get pretty shaken by the shaking.  Having seen what damage these tremors can cause, I'd say we lucked out with this one.  Makes for interesting conversations, though.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Ralph In Charge

The thought of goofy, rambunctious Ralph being in charge of anything is a little unsettling, but he has become the self-assigned Keeper of Sleep and he takes his duties seriously.  I get to choose when we all go to bed, but as soon as the light goes out, the Keeper takes charge.  As soon as I'm settled, I feel the gentlest, softest pat-pat-pat on my face.  Sometimes it takes him a couple tries to find just the right position, but I am required to then wrap my arm around him for a snuggle.  Every night.  Now if he's late, I worry.  I find that soft, warm cuddle so comforting. if that is his intent.  Just as I'm drifting away to Dreamland, having performed his duty Ralph moves off to his own place on the bed.

Lately, his To-Do list has expanded to the morning.  I'm normally an early riser, but my wake-at-will evidently didn't suit Ralph.  He runs a tight ship.  How he knows when five a.m. comes, I don't know, but it's just that time when I get the pat-pat-pat on the face again.  "Wake up, Woman!  Time's a-wasting!"  Pat-pat-pat.  As I've said so many times before about our life here, I'm not in charge.

Our trip to town was as expected.  Add another doctor to the list.  I must have a cataract removed.  I've seen that coming (that's a joke, son), but just the thought gives me pause.  At least Michael made more friends.

The big heat is supposed to land today and last for the next week.  Even with a cloudy eye, I'm not looking forward to that.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Half Baked

Between the heat and some health issues, not much has been happening here lately...certainly nothing to write about.  I fear it's only going to get worse, as low(ish) 100s are predicted for a good portion of the next week.  If the 90s wipe me out, I'll be well-done by then.

A trip to town today with a/c in the truck has me almost looking forward to the outing.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Make My Day

("Sudden Impact," 1983, Dirty Harry's line.  Clint Eastwood.)

It's been a long time, too long, since I've seen any of my Kids, so you can imagine I was over the moon when Clay came up yesterday.  Over the moon, in seventh heaven, anything that describes euphoric, that was me.  Clay reckoned it's been a year and a half since his last visit.  Keep in mind he'd worked a sixteen-hour day the day before, so this effort meant a lot to me.

We sat out on the steadily warming porch and, as it was with Joan, we talked of everything under the sun...and laughed.  It's almost up there with laughter is the best medicine, topped only by seeing your Kid.  That's the cure for whatever ails ya!

Too soon, way too soon, Clay had to leave, hopefully to get some rest.  His goodbye "Love you," still echoes in my heart.

Stay safe.  Be well.  Happy Fourth of July!

Adventures/Misadvenures

Not only had I put off going to town by a day, I cut it really close on time yesterday.  Nothing like a challenge in a humdrum life!  I made it to the lab (the mini-vampires) with not much time to spare, and then everything came to a screeching halt.  Michael may be the only one who enjoys these adventures...new trees, bushes, and posts that require his attention.  We got out of the truck in the empty parking lot and he immediately headed toward the nearest tree.  I tripped on the concrete abutment and went full length into the mulch.  Quick systems check.  No damage done other than to my ego.  Yeah, well.  One of the more debilitating conditions I've encountered of late is loss of strength, especially in the legs.  I couldn't stand up no matter how I tried.  Time was ticking way, and there I sat.  A car drove in and a nice lady and her dad got out.  "Are you okay?"  "Well, not really.  Could you help me stand up?"  She gave a small effort, but I think she was afraid she'd break that which had not been broken.  Nice Lady went into the building, leaving her father, who was blind and nearly deaf, to keep an eye on me (that's a joke, son), and came back to tell me the lab was closed and that she had called 911, stressing that it was not an emergency.  Throw in another 'yeah, well' here.

In no time at all the parking lot was filled with a hook-and-ladder fire truck, an EMT van, an ambulance, all with flashing lights, and what seemed like ten firemen!  All this and all I needed was a boost.  How many ways can you say embarrassed?

There is a reason firemen pose for calendars.  There must be some criteria for handsome and cute when they hire on.  In my now two encounters, these guys met every requirement.  And they are kind.  Don gave me a once-over and decided I wasn't fibbing...no real damage done, and agreed I didn't need to go to the hospital, although he offered several times.  Finally he pulled me up by the back of my bibbies, saw that I could get into the truck on my own, and let me go.  Yes, I was shaky, more with embarrassment than anything else.

When I say I don't like to go to town, I really, really mean it.  And I still have to go back to get the lab work done.  Aarrgh!

Stay safe.  Stay on your feet.  Be well.