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.