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.