The Other Kind

Some days funny stuff happens, thoughts and/or topics spring out of nowhere, and the words just flow.  This is not one of those days.  Hadn't spoken to Camille for a bit so called her yesterday just to say hi.  She answered.  It turned out she had returned from the hospital the day before, having fallen, broken her hip and hand last week, and had already had that hip replaced.  And she was already home!  Back in the day, those injuries would have meant a month in the hospital.  She's been set up with caretakers, therapists, equipment, etc., and seems in good spirits.  Her mom was to arrive last evening.  There's not much I can do for her but deliver a meal or two.  Having had my own share of trip-and-falls, I truly understood when she said the accident had happened in a second with no time to react.  Dang!

I'm feeling the loss of another friend.  I hadn't seen Harold in some long while, but we talked almost every week.  I tried for some time recently to contact my self-proclaimed "boyfriend" (our private joke).  No answer, no answer, no answer...and that's not like him.  And then his phones were disconnected.  Harold was 91 and in poor health.  I miss him.

There are good days, and then there are the other kind.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Raiders From The Bark

Apologies to Steven Spielberg (Raiders Of The Lost Ark, 1981).

Missy shows up several times during the day and night to snack on her kibble, letting me know in no uncertain terms when her food gets low.  Cats are sure they're being starved if they can see the bottom of the dish.  Lately I've noticed that the bowl is emptier sooner, but put it down to the cooler weather and thought she might be creating a protective fat layer.  That may be true, but it's not the real reason for the depleted supply.  Missy's dish is on the deck, under the roofed portion next to the dining room for her comfort and my ease.  I looked out yesterday to check her food status and was surprised by a flurry of blue.  Bold Steller's jays were none too happy at having their buffet raid interrupted, but only went as far as the deck rail to wait.  The California scrub jays are never a problem like their crested cousins, preferring to fend for themselves.  The scrubs are always with us, the Steller's are seasonal.  I guess there's enough food to go around for fowl and feline.

The people who lived here first abandoned a dog and a cat when they moved.  I have plenty to say about that...another story for another day.  The cat, a huge, long-haired Siamese/Persian, was an outdoor cat and liked it that way.  I put out food and water on the deck for Ming (the people had at least told me his name), but wondered about his eating habits because I kept finding food bits in his water dish.  Cats are usually fastidious creatures and this guy was pretty messy.  Big as he was, it seemed to me that he was eating an inordinate amount of food.  Those mysteries were solved when I discovered we had been colonized by raccoons.  Missy has to go out by the chicken(less) pen for her water.

I see by the tracks that the goats are sharing their alfalfa with the deer.

Ah, the joys of country living.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Feeling Kneady

Ralph, not the most mentally stable cat to begin with, recently reverted to kittenhood and now obsessively "makes muffins" perched on my arm anytime I sit down, kneading, kneading with a faraway look in his eyes.  He's not done this before.  Eventually he will curl up on my lap, squeezed in to whatever space his sleeping sister, Celeste, has left him, and sometimes that's not much.  It's wintertime and I'm never without my puffy jacket, outdoors or in, so his habit isn't really a problem now.  The jacket is my armor against his working claws.  Come warm weather, we're going to have to have a talk.

I can only assume that Celeste came down the chute first, as she takes her responsibilities and rightful place as Big Sister seriously.  As such, she doesn't take much guff from Little Brother and doesn't hesitate to take him down a peg or two as she sees fit.  I recently purchased an appliance with any number of pieces (that I had to put together).  Each part came in its separate box inside the packing box, and each smaller box had holes cut to accommodate the piece.  I set the little boxes aside while trying to decipher the instructions, littering the living room with cardboard.  Celeste doesn't have much of a playful spirit, but you'd have thought I created a playground just for her.  She dashes about the room, poking a paw in here, peeking in there.  Oh joy!  For a change, it's Ralph who looks at her as if she's gone berserk.  As a consequence, my living room is a labyrinth of boxes.  If anyone ever comes in the house again, I'll have to put up a sign saying Watch Your Step.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Good Job

A good handyman is worth his weight in gold, and this Helper Dude is a treasure.  We set a date and time and he shows up on schedule.  (They don't all do that.)  I have a system for working with these guys...they come, we discuss the job(s) at hand, there is time for Q&A, and then I go in the house and leave them to it.  I might go out once in awhile to offer water or coffee, and possibly throw in a suggestion to make the task easier if it's a job I or Steve had done before.  I don't believe in micromanaging.  There have been gentlemen in the past who did sloppy work or dogged it to extend their time.  They weren't asked back, but they've been few and far between.  Let's face it, I need help here, and, boy, I'm lucky on this go-round.

Yesterday HD came, we laid out a plan, and he went to work.  He trimmed the front hedge and lilacs that had become overgrown and straggly, then went down to the road and cut back some buckbrush that was blocking my view when leaving home.  Buckbrush might be a misnomer, but it's the term the locals use for some wild tree/shrubs that spring up everywhere and quickly get out of hand.  They're a pain in the patoot.  All the cuttings were added to the remaining burn pile, which he lit and disposed of, and a burn pile must be watched.  Then he cleaned the roof gutters and blew the leavings off the deck.  All of this, which, if left to me and I could have done it in the first place, would have taken weeks, was accomplished, and done well, in four hours!  As I said, he's a treasure.

The old homestead is starting to shape up again, and it was looking pretty bad.  HD asked, "What's next?" and we went over my list for the future.  With property this size, there's always going to be something.  It's a never-ending project.

Good job, Dude!

It was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well,

Sidetracked

Once established, a routine shall not be altered.  Sorry, that's the rule.  Interruptions throw everything out of whack.  The morning routine goes like this, in order:  so much time for the blog, so much time for FB, so much time for email, so much time for solitaire (somewhat dependent on whether I'm winning), so much time to read whatever news is on the 'home page,' and then turn off the computer and get on with the day.  Sitting with a blank screen in front of me, I was contemplating the topic of the day when the phone rang.  I wasn't the only one who woke up late yesterday.  It was my daughter, and a call from a Kid trumps any routine and always will.  We slurped our coffee at either end of the line while chatting, and before I knew it, coffee and blog time were gone.  It was on to FB, etc.

Once sidetracked, my train of thought is derailed.  Steve used to say I looked like a duck in a shooting gallery as I'd start one way, get distracted, turn to go the other way, go back to Plan A...you get the picture.  It was like that all day yesterday.  Michael provided my only reason to stay on course, bless his doggie heart.  A lot got started, not much got finished, although I highly recommend watching '84, Charing Cross Road' (1987, Anne Bancroft, Anthony Hopkins).  It's a gentle, intelligent film about friendship, and a balm for these troubled times.

I hope to get my engine on track again today.  Helper Dude is coming to knock a few more chores off the lengthy list, so there will be some structure.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Cravings

For the past few months, there is nothing I've wanted as much as orange juice.  Rarely have I come home from the store without a big jug of the stuff.  Morning, noon, and/or night, I chug down big glasses of juice.  Ahhh.  I'd have thought it was a summertime drink, but I'd have been wrong.

There's this thing about fresh vegetables...they don't stay fresh all that long.  After stocking up on an infrequent trip to the market, I almost overdose on veggies.  It's taken me three days, but the crisp Chinese vegetable stir-fry has been so satisfying.  It's also a reason I've been buying frozen dinner bowls loaded with some vegetable or another.  They're relatively inexpensive and, one can hope, healthy.

I live in one of the most peaceful places on earth, and still I crave peace...mental peace.  I cannot understand the chaos in America these days.  Government of, by, and for the people has come unhinged, and it goes on and on.

I'm going to take walks with Michael and load my lap with kitties while finishing Chinese leftovers today.  There's not much I can do about the outside world, so I'll do what I can in mine.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Slow Going

Trips to town (finally made it yesterday) always take a little longer with Michael.  It's the same wherever we go.  As soon as we get out of the truck, he does a recon of the area looking for the best piddle and, thankfully not often, a poop spot.  Being an equal-opportunity guy, he tries to spread the wealth around while I stand there trying to look like he's just sniffing bushes.

Once inside wherever and everywhere we're going, it begins...and it's always the same.  I can't tell you how many times we get stopped in Walmart..."Oh, how beautiful!," "What kind of dog is he?," etc.  There is always someone, man or woman, who has to tell me about their dog(s), past, present, and future.  In a past life, I was an in-and-out shopper.  No longer.  There's no sense fighting it, the Michael Magnet draws people of all ages, and there I am, along for the ride.  I had to cut a conversation short in the parking lot with a gentleman with a Shih Tzu who was giving me the lowdown on how and why he'd picked this particular little cutie because I was worried about getting home before dark.  I don't drive after dark anymore.  We barely made it, but we made it.

I did make one last stop to pick up some Chinese take-out.  At home, Michael shared the broccoli, the celery, the zucchini, etc. (I kept the snow peas for myself), and politely spit out the carrot.  As I was waiting for the coffee to drip this morning, I realized I have five kinds of cat treats and five kinds of dog treats (six, if you count the kind he doesn't like).  What's wrong with me?  Don't answer that.

Stay safe.  Be well.